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OF     THE      W  O  R  L  D'S     BEST     BOOKS 


The  publishers  will  be  pleased  to  send,  upon  request,  an 
illustrated  folder  setting  forth  the  purpose  and  scope  of 
THE  MODERN  L.IBB.AB.Y, and  listing  each  volume 
in  the  series.  Every  reader  of  books  will  find  titles  he  has 
been  looking  for,  handsomely  printed,  in  unabridged 
editions,  and  at  an  unusually  low  price. 





COPYRIGHT,    1897,    BY    BRAM    STOKER 

Random  House  is  the  publisher  of 


Manufactured  in  the  United  States  of  America 
Printed  by  Parkway  Printing  Company         Bound  by  H.  Wolff 




How  these  papers  have  been  placed  in  sequence  will  be 
made  manifest  in  the  reading  of  them.  All  needless  mat- 
ters have  been  eliminated,  so  that  a  history  almost  at 
variance  with  the  possibilities  of  later-day  belief  may  stand 
forth  as  simple  fact.  There  is  throughout  no  statement  of 
past  things  wherein  memory  may  err,  for  all  the  records 
chosen  are  exactly  contemporary,  given  from  the  stand- 
points and  within  the  range  of  knowledge  of  those  who 
made  them. 


Chapter    I 


Jonathan  Harker's  Journal    i 

Chapter  II 
Jonathan  Harker's  Journal    i6 

Chapter  III 
Jonathan  Harker's  Journal   30 

Chapter  IV 
Jonathan  Harker's  Journal    44 

Chapter  V  . 

Letters — Lucy  and  Mina   59 

Chapter  VI 
Mina  Murray's  Journal   69 

Chapter   VII 
Cutting  from  "The  Dailygraph,"  8  August 83 

Chapter    VIII 
Mina  Murray's  Journal   98 

Chapter    IX 
Mina  Murray's  Journal   114 


Chapter   X 
Mina  Murray's  Journal   129 

Chapter  XI 
Lucy  Westenias  Diary 14^ 

Chapter   XII 
J)r.  Seward's  Diary 159 

Chapter    XIII 
Dr.  Seward's  Diary 178 

Chapter    XIV 
Mina  Marker's  Journal 196 

Chapter   XV 
Dr.  Seward's  Diary    213 

Chapter    XVI 
Dr.   Seward's  Diary    228 

Chapter   XVII 
Dr.  Seward's  Diary    240 

Chapter  XVIII 
Dr.   Seward's  Diary 255 

Chapter    XIX 
Jonathan  Harker's  Journal 273 

Chapter  XX 
Jonathan  Harker's  Journal 287 


Chapter    XXI 


Dr.  Seward's  Diary    303 

Chapter   XXII 
Jonathan  Harker's  Journal 319 

Chapter  XXIII 
Dr.   Seward's  Diary    333 

Chapter  XXIV 

Dr.  Seward's  Phonograph  Diary,  spoken  by  Van 

Helsing ,  .    348 

Chapter    XXV 
Dr.   Seward's  Diary    364 

Chapter  XXVI 
Dr.   Seward's  Diary    380 

Chapter  XXVII 
Mina  Harker's  Journal 399 





{Kept  in  shorthand.) 

3  May.  Bistrit2.—Leit  Munich  at  8:35  ?•  ,^'\^\^^^ 
May,  arriving  at  Vienna  early  next  morning;  should  have 
arrived  at  6:46,  but  train  was  an  hour  late.  Buda-Pesth 
seems  a  wonderful  place,  from  the  glimpse  which  I  got 
of  it  from  the  train  and  the  little  I  could  walk  through 
the  streets.  I  feared  to  go  very  far  from  the  station,  as  we 
arrived  late  and  would  start  as  near  the  correct  time  as 
possible.  The  impression  I  had  was  that  we  were  leaving 
the  West  and  entering  the  East;  the  most  western  of 
splendid  bridges  over  the  Danube,  which  is  here  of  noble 
width  and  depth,  took  us  among  the  traditions  of  Turkish 

We  left  in  pretty  good  time,  and  came  after  nightfall  to 
Klausenburgh.  Here  I  stopped  for  the  night  at  the  Hotel 
Royale.  I  had  for  dinner,  or  rather  supper,  a  chicken  done 
up  some  way  with  red  pepper,  which  was  very  good  but 
thirsty.  (  Mem.,  get  recipe  for  Mina.)  I  asked  the  waiter, 
and  he  said  it  was  called  "paprika  hendl,"  and  that,  as  it 
was  a  national  dish,  I  should  be  able  to  get  it  anywhere 
along  the  Carpathians.  I  found  my  smattering  of  German 
very  useful  here ;  indeed,  I  don't  know  how  I  should  be 
able  to  get  on  without  it.  •     t      ^ 

Having  had  some  time  at  my  disposal  when  in  London, 
I  had  visited  the  British  Museum,  and  made  search  among 
the  books  and  maps  in  the  library  regarding  Transylvania; 

2  D  R ACUL A 

it  had  struck  me  that  some  foreknowledge  of  the  country 
could  hardly  fail  to  have  some  importance  in  dealing  with 
a  nobleman  of  that  country.  I  find  that  the  district  he 
named  is  in  the  extreme  east  of  the  country,  just  on  the 
borders  of  three  states,  Transylvania,  Moldavia  and  Buko- 
vina,  in  the  midst  of  the  Carpathian  mountains ;  one  of  the 
wildest  and  least  known  portions  of  Eur^ope.  I  was  not 
able  to  light  on  any  map  or  work  giving  the  exact  locality 
of  the  Castle  Dracula,  as  there  are  no  maps  of  this  country 
as  yet  to  compare  with  our  own  Ordnance  Survey  maps; 
but  I  found  that  Bistritz,  the  post  town  named  by  Count 
Dracula,  is  a  fairly  well-known  place.  I  shall  enter  here 
some  of  my  notes,  as  they  may  refresh  my  memory  when 
I  talk  over  my  travels  with  Mina. 

In  the  population  of  Transylvania  there  are  four  dis- 
tinct nationalities :  Saxons  in  the  South,  and  mixed  with 
them  the  Wallachs,  who  are  the  descendants  of  the 
Dacians ;  Magyars  in  the  West,  and  Szekelys  in  the  East 
and  North.  I  am  going  among  the  latter,  who  claim  to  be 
descended  from  Attila  and  the  Huns.  This  may  be  so,  for 
when  the  Magyars  conquered  the  country  in  the  eleventh 
century  they  found  the  Huns  settled  in  it.  I  read  that  every 
known  superstition  in  the  world  is  gathered  into  the  horse- 
shoe of  the  Carpathians,  as  if  it  were  the  centre  of  some 
sort  of  imaginative  whirlpool ;  if  so  my  stay  may  be  very 
interesting.  {Mem.,  I  must  ask  the  Count  all  about  them.) 

I  did  not  sleep  well,  though  my  bed  was  comfortable 
enough,  for  I  had  all  sorts  of  queer  dreams.  There  was  a 
dog  howling  all  night  under  my  window,  which  may  have 
had  something  to  do  with  it;  or  it  may  have  been  the 
paprika,  for  I  had  to  drink  up  all  the  water  in  my  carafe, 
and  was  still  thirsty.  Towards  morning  I  slept  and  was 
wakened  by  the  continuous  knocking  at  my  door,  so  I  guess 
I  must  have  been  sleeping  soundly  then.  I  had  for  break- 
fast more  paprika,  and  a  sort  of  porridge  of  maize  flour 
which  they  said  was  "mamaliga,"  and  egg-plant  stuffed 
with  forcemeat,  a  very  excellent  dish,  which  they  call 
*'impletata."  {Mem.,  get  recipe  for  this  also.)  I  had  to 
hurry  breakfast,  for  the  train  started  a  little  before  eight, 
or  rather  it  ought  to  have  done  so,  for  after  rushing  to  the 


station  at  7 :  30  I  had  to  sit  in  the  carriage  for  more  than 
an  hour  before  we  began  to  move.  It  seems  to  me  that 
the  further  east  you  go  the  more  unpunctual  are  the  trains. 
What  ought  they  to  be  in  China? 

All  day  long  we  seemed  to  dawdle  through  a  country 
which  was  full  of  beauty  of  every  kind.  Sometimes  we  saw 
little  towns  or  castles  on  the  top  of  steep  hills  such  as  we 
see  in  old  missals ;  sometimes  we  ran  by  rivers  and  streams 
w^hich  seemed  from  the  wide  stony  margin  on  each  side 
of  them  to  be  subject  to  great  floods.  It  takes  a  lot  of 
water,  and  running  strong,  to  sweep  the  outside  edge  of  a 
river  clear.  At  every  station  there  were  groups  of  people, 
sometimes  crowds,  and  in  all  sorts  of  attire.  Some  of  them 
were  just  like  the  peasants  at  home  or  those  I  saw  coming 
through  France  and  Germany,  with  short  jackets  and 
round  hats  and  home-made  trousers ;  but  others  were  very 
picturesque.  The  women  looked  pretty,  except  when  you 
^ot  near  them,  but  they  were  very  clumsy  about  the  waist. 
They  had  all  full  white  sleeves  of  some  kind  or  other,  and 
the  most  of  them  had  big  belts  with  a  lot  of  strips  of 
something  fluttering  from  them  like  the  dresses  in  a  bal- 
let, but  of  course  there  were  petticoats  under  them.  The 
strangest  figures  we  saw  were  the  Slovaks,  who  were 
more  barbarian  than  the  rest,  with  their  big  cow-boy  hats, 
great  baggy  dirty-white  trousers,  white  linen  shirts,  and 
enormous  heavy  leather  belts,  nearly  a  foot  wide,  all 
studded  over  with  brass  nails.  They  wore  high  boots,  with 
their  trousers  tucked  into  them,  and  had  long  black  hair 
and  heavy  black  moustaches.  They  are  very  picturesque, 
but  do  not  look  prepossessing.  On  the  stage  they  would 
be  set  down  at  once  as  some  old  Oriental  band  of  brigands. 
They  are,  however,  I  am  told,  very  harmless  and  rather 
wanting  in  natural  self-assertion. 

It  was  on  the  dark  side  of  twilight  when  we  got  to 
Bistritz,  which  is  a  very  interesting  old  place.  Being  prac- 
tically on  the  frontier — for  the  Borgo  Pass  leads  from  it 
into  Bukovina — it  has  had  a  very  stormy  existence,  and  it 
certainly  shows  marks  of  it.  Fifty  years  ago  a  series  of 
great  fires  took  place,  which  made  terrible  havoc  on  five 
separate  occasions.  At  the  very  beginning  of  the  seven- 


teenth  century  it  underwent  a  siege  of  three  weeks  and 
lost  13,000  people,  the  casualties  of  war  proper  beine 
assisted  by  famine  and  disease.  ' 

Count  Dracula  had  directed  me  to  go  to  the  Golden 
Krone  Hotel  which  I  found,  to  my  great  delight,  to  be 
thoroughly  old-fashioned,  for  of  course  I  wanted  to  see  all 
1  could  of  the  ways  of  the  country.  I  was  evidently  ex- 
pected, for  when  I  got  near  the  door  I  faced  a  cheery- 
looking  cderly  woman  in  the  usual  peasant  dress— white 
undergarment  with  long  double  apron,  front,  and  back,  of 
coloured  stuff  fitting  almost  too  tight  for  modesty  When 
^  ^^f  ..?i''^^„  ^.^^  .^^^^^  ^^d  said,  'The  Herr  English- 
man? Yes,  I  said,  "Jonathan  Harker."  She  smiled!  and 
gave  some  message  to  an  elderly  man  in  white  shirt- 
sleeves, who  had  followed  her  to  the  door.  He  went,  but 
immediately  returned  with  a  letter : 

"My  Friend.— Welcome  to  the  Carpathians.  I  am 
anxiously  expecting  you.  Sleep  well  to-night.  At  three  to- 
morrow the  diligence  will  start  for  Bukovina;  a  place  on 
It  is  kept  for  you.  At  the  Borgo  Pass  my  carriage  will 
await  you  and  will  bring  you  to  me.  I  trust  that  your 
journey  from  London  has  been  a  happy  one,  and  that  you 
will  enjoy  your  stay  in  my  beautiful  land. 

"Your  friend, 

4  May.—l  found  that  my  landlord  had  got  a  letter  from 
the  Count,  directing  him  to  secure  the  best  place  on  the 
coach  for  me;  but  on  making  inquiries  as  to  details  he 
seemed  somewhat  reticent,  and  pretended  that  he  could  not 
understand  my  German.  This  could  not  be  true,  because 
up  to  then  he  had  understood  it  perfectly;  at  least,  he 
answered  my  questions  exactly  as  if  he  did.  He  and  his 
wife,  the  old  lady  who  had  received  me,  looked  at  each 
other  in  a  frightened  sort  of  way.  He  mumbled  out  that  the 
money  had  been  sent  in  a  letter,  and  that  was  all  he  knew. 
When  I  asked  him  if  he  knew  Count  Dracula,  and  could 
tell  me  anything  of  his  castle,  both  he  and  his  wife  crossed 
themselves,  and,   saying  that  they  knew  nothing  at  all. 


simply  refused  to  speak  further.  It  was  so  near  the  time 
of  starting  that  1  had  no  time  to  ask  any  one  else,  for  it 
was  all  very  mysterious  and  not  by  any  means  comfort- 

Just  before  I  was  leaving,  the  old  lady  came  up  to  my 
room  and  said  in  a  very  hysterical  way : 

"Must  you  go?  Oh!  young  Herr,  must  you  go?"  She 
was  in  such  an  excited  state  that  she  seemed  to  have  lost 
her  grip  of  what  German  she  knew,  and  mixed  it  all  up 
with  some  other  language  which  I  did  not  know  at  all. 
I  was  just  able  to  follow  her  by  asking  many  questions. 
When  I  told  her  that  I  must  go  at  once,  and  that  I  was 
engaged  on  important  business,  she  asked  again: 

"Do  you  know  what  day  it  is?"  I  answered  that  it  was 
the  fourth  of  May.  She  shook  her  head  as  she  said  again : 

"Oh,  yes!  I  know  that!  I  know  that,  but  do  you  know 
what  day  it  is  ?"  On  my  saying  that  I  did  not  understand, 
she  went  on : 

"It  is  the  eve  of  St.  George's  Day.  Do  you  not  know 
that  to-night,  when  the  clock  strikes  midnight,  all  the  evil 
things  in  the  world  will  have  full  sway?  Do  you  know 
where  you  are  going,  and  what  you  are  going  to?"  She  was 
in  such  evident  distress  that  I  tried  to  comfort  her,  but 
without  effect.  Finally  she  went  down  on  her  knees  and 
implored  me  not  to  go ;  at  least  to  wait  a  day  or  two  before 
starting.  It  was  all  very  ridiculous  but  I  did  not  feel  com- 
fortable. However,  there  was  business  to  be  done,  and  I 
could  allow  nothing  to  interfere  with  it.  I  therefore  tried 
to  raise  her  up,  and  said,  as  gravely  as  I  could,  that  I 
thanked  her,  but  my  duty  was  imperative,  and  that  I  must 
go.  She  then  rose  and  dried  her  eyes,  and  taking  a  cruci- 
fix from  her  neck  offered  it  to  me.  I  did  not  know  what  to 
do,  for,  as  an  English  Churchman,  I  have  been  taught  to 
regard  such  things  as  in  some  measure  idolatrous,  and 
yet  it  seemed  so  ungracious  to  refuse  an  old  lady  meaning 
so  well  and  in  such  a  state  of  mind.  She  saw,  I  suppose, 
the  doubt  in  my  face,  for  she  put  the  rosary  round  my 
neck,  and  said,  "For  your  mother's  sake,"  and  went  out 
of  the  room.  I  am  writing  up  this  part  of  the  diary  whilst 
I  am  waiting  for  the  coach,  which  is,  of  course,  late;  and 


the  crucifix  is  still  round  my  neck.  Whether  it  is  the  old 
lady's  fear,  or  the  many  ghostly  traditions  of  this  place,  or 
the  crucifix  itself,  I  do  not  know,  but  1  am  not  feeling 
nearly  as  easy  in  my  mind  as  usual.  If  this  book  should 
ever  reach  Mina  before  I  do,  let  it  bring  my  good-bye 
Here  comes  the  coach! 

5  May.    The   Castle.— Th^  grey   of   the   morning   has 
passed,  and  the  sun  is  high  over  the  distant  horizon,  which 
seenis  jagged,  whether  with  trees  or  hills  I  know  not 
for  It  IS  so  far  oflF  that  big  things  and  little  are  mixed.  I 
am  not  sleepy,  and,  as  I  am  not  to  be  called  till  I  awake 
naturally  I  write  till  sleep  comes.  There  are  many  odd 
things  to  put  down,  and,  lest  who  reads  them  may  fancy 
that  I  dined  too  well  before  I  left  Bistritz,  let  me  put 
down  my  dinner  exactly.   I   dined   on  what  they  called 
robber  steak  —bits  of  bacon,  onion,  and  beef,  seasoned 
with  red  pepper,  and  strung  on  sticks  and  roasted  over 
the  hre,  m  the  simple  style  of  the  London  cat's  meat '  The 
wine  was  Golden  Mediasch,  which  produces  a  queer  sting 
on  the  tongue,  which  is,  however,  not  disagreeable.  I  had 

Lt  ''''I'P^  °^  ^^^^'^^  ^^  ^^^S'  and  nothing  else. 

When  I  got  on  the  coach  the  driver  had  not  taken  his 
seat,  and  1  saw  him  talking  with  the  landlady.  They  were 
evidently  talking  of  me,  for  every  now  and  then  they 
looked  at  me,  and  some  of  the  people  who  were  sitting 
on  the  bench  outside  the  door— which  they  call  by  a  name 
meaning  word-bearer"-^ame  and  listened,  and  then 
looked  at  me,  most  of  them  pityingly.  I  could  hear  a  lot 
of  words  often  repeated,  queer  words,  for  there  were  many 
nationalities  in  the  crowd ;  so  I  quietly  got  my  polyglot 
dictionary  from  my  ba^  and  looked  them  out.  I  must  say 
they  were  not  cheering  to  me,   for  amongst  them  were 

-?rnl^f'~^.'''"it  P?M:-^^"'  "st4oica"-witch. 
vrolok  and  Vlkoslak"-both  of  which  mean  the  same 
thmg,  one  being  Slovak  and  the  other  Servian  for  some- 
thing that  IS  either  were-wolf  or  vampire.  {Mem  I  must 
ask  the  Count  about  these  superstitions.) 

When  we  started,  the  crowd  round  the  inn  door,  which 
had  by  this  time  swelled  to  a  considerable  size,  all  made 


the  sign  of  the  cross  and  pointed  two  fingers  towards  me. 
With  some  difficulty  I  got  a  fellow-passenger  to  tell  me 
what  they  meant;  he  would  not  answer  at  first,  but  on 
learning  that  I  was  English,  he  explained  that  it  was  a 
charm  or  guard  against  the  evil  eye.  This  was  not  very 
pleasant  for  me,  just  starting  for  an  unknown  place  to 
meet  an  unknown  man ;  but  every  one  seemed  so  kind- 
hearted,  and  so  sorrowful,  and  so  sympathetic  that  I  could 
not  but  be  touched.  I  shall  never  forget  the  last  glimpse 
which  I  had  of  the  inn-yard  and  its  crowd  of  picturesque 
figures,  all  crossing  themselves,  as  they  stood  round  the 
wide  archway,  with  its  background  of  rich  foliage  of 
oleander  and  orange  trees  in  green  tubs  clustered  in  the 
centre  of  the  yard.  Then  our  driver,  whose  wide  linen 
drawers  covered  the  whole  front  of  the  box-seat — '*gotza" 
they  call  them — cracked  his  big  whip  over  his  four  small 
horses,  which  ran  abreast,  and  we  set  off  on  our  journey. 

I  soon  lost  sight  and  recollection  of  ghostly  fears  in  the 
beauty  of  the  scene  as  we  drove  along,  although  had  I 
known  the  language,  or  rather  languages,  which  my  fellow- 
passengers  were  speaking,  I  might  not  have  been  able  to 
throw  them  off  so  easily.  Before  us  lay  a  green  sloping 
land  full  of  forests  and  woods,  with  here  and  there  steep 
hills,  crowned  with  clumps  of  trees  or  with  farmhouses, 
the  blank  gable  end  to  the  road.  There  was  everywhere  a 
bewildering  mass  of  fruit  blossom — apple,  plum,  pear, 
cherry ;  and  as  we  drove  by  I  could  see  the  green  grass 
under  the  trees  spangled  with  the  fallen  petals.  In  and  out 
amongst  these  green  hills  of  what  they  call  here  the  *'Mit- 
tel  Land"  ran  the  road,  losing  itself  as  it  swept  round  the 
grassy  curve,  or  was  shut  out  by  the  straggling  ends  of 
pine  woods,  which  here  and  there  ran  down  the  hillsides 
like  tongues  of  flame.  The  road  was  rugged,  but  still  we 
seemed  to  fly  over  it  with  a  feverish  haste.  I  could  not 
understand  then  what  the  haste  meant,  but  the  driver  was 
evidently  bent  on  losing  no  time  in  reaching  Borgo  Prund. 
I  was  told  that  this  road  is  in  summertime  excellent,  but 
that  it  had  not  yet  been  put  in  order  after  the  winter 
snows.  In  this  respect  it  is  different  from  the  general  run 
of  roads  in  the  Carpathians,  for  it  is  an  old  tradition  that 


they  are  not  to  be  kept  in  too  good  order.  Of  old  the 
Hospadars  would  not  repair  them,  lest  the  Turk  should 
think  that  they  were  preparing  to  bring  in  foreign  troops, 
and  so  hasten  the  war  which  was  always  really  at  loading 

Beyond  the  green  swelling  hills  of  the  Mittel  Land  rose 
mighty  slopes  of  forest  up  to  the  lofty  steeps  of  the  Car- 
pathians themselves.  Right  and  left  of  us  they  towered, 
with  the  afternoon  sun  falling  full  upon  them  and  bring- 
ing out  all  the  glorious  colours  of  this  beautiful  range, 
deep  blue  and  purple  in  the  shadows  of  the  peaks,  green 
and  brown  where  grass  and  rock  mingled,  and  an  endless 
perspective  of  jagged  rock  and  pointed  crags,  till  these 
were  themselves  lost  in  the  distance,  where  the  snowy 
peaks  rose  grandly.  Here  and  there  seemed  mighty  rifts 
in  the  mountains,  through  which,  as  the  sun  began  to  sink, 
we  saw  now  and  again  the  white  gleam  of  falling  water. 
One  of  my  companions  touched  my  arm  as  we  swept  round 
the  base  of  a  hill  and  opened  up  the  lofty,  snow-covered 
peak  of  a  mountain,  which  seemed,  as  we  wound  on  our 
serpentine  way,  to  be  right  before  us : — 

*'Look!  Isten  szek!" — "God's  seat!" — and  he  crossed 
himself  reverently. 

As  we  wound  on  our  endless  way,  and  the  sun  sank 
lower  and  lower  behind  us,  the  shadows  of  the  evening  be- 
gan to  creep  round  us.  This  was  emphasised  by  the  fact 
that  the  snowy  mountain-top  still  held  the  sunset,  and 
seemed  to  glow  out  with  a  delicate  cool  pink.  Here  and 
there  we  passed  Cszeks  and  Slovaks,  all  in  picturesque 
attire,  but  I  noticed  that  goitre  was  painfully  prevalent. 
By  the  roadside  were  many  crosses,  and  as  we  swept  by, 
my  companions  all  crossed  themselves.  Here  and  there  was 
a  peasant  man  or  woman  kneeling  before  a  shrine,  who 
did  not  even  turn  round  as  we  approached,  but  seemed  in 
the  self-surrender  of  devotion  to  have  neither  eyes  nor 
ears  for  the  outer  world.  There  were  many  things  new  to 
me :  for  instance,  hay-ricks  in  the  trees,  and  here  and  there 
very  beautiful  masses  of  weeping  birch,  their  white  stems 
shining  like  silver  through  the  delicate  green  of  the  leaves. 
Now  and  again  we  passed  a  leiter-wagon — the  ordinary 


peasant's  cart — with  its  long,  snake-like  vertebra,  calcu- 
lated to  suit  the  inequalities  of  the  road.  On  this  were  sure 
to  be  seated  quite  a  group  of  home-coming  peasants,  the 
Cszeks  with  their  white,  and  the  Slovaks  with  their  col- 
oured, sheepskins,  the  latter  carrying  lance-fashion  their 
long  staves,  with  axe  at  end.  As  the  evening  fell  it  began 
to  get  very  cold,  and  the  growing  twilight  seemed  to  merge 
into  one  dark  mistiness  the  gloom  of  the  trees,  oak,  beech, 
and  pine,  though  in  the  valleys  which  ran  deep  between  the 
spurs  of  the  hills,  as  we  ascended  through  the  Pass,  the 
dark  firs  stood  out  here  and  there  against  the  background 
of  late-lying  snow.  Sometimes,  as  the  road  was  cut  through 
the  pine  woods  that  seemed  in  the  darkness  to  be  closing 
down  upon  us,  great  masses  of  greyness,  which  here  and 
there  bestrewed  the  trees,  produced  a  peculiarly  weird  and 
solemn  effect,  which  carried  on  the  thoughts  and  grim 
fancies  engendered  earlier  in  the  evening,  when  the  falling 
sunset  threw  into  strange  relief  the  ghost-like  clouds 
which  amongst  the  Carpathians  seem  to  wind  ceaselessly 
through  the  valleys.  Sometimes  the  hills  were  so  steep 
that,  despite  our  driver's  haste,  the  horses  could  only  go 
slowly.  I  wished  to  get  down  and  walk  up  them,  as  we  do 
at  home,  but  the  driver  would  not  hear  of  it.  "No,  no,"  he 
said ;  "you  must  not  walk  here ;  the  dogs  are  too  fierce" ; 
and  then  he  added,  with  what  he  evidently  meant  for  grim 
pleasantry — for  he  looked  round  to  catch  the  approving 
smile  of  the  rest — "and  you  may  have  enough  of  such  mat- 
ters before  you  go  to  sleep."  The  only  stop  he  would  make 
was  a  moment's  pause  to  light  his  lamps. 

When  it  grew  dark  there  seemed  to  be  some  excitement 
amongst  the  passengers,  and  they  kept  speaking  to  him, 
one  after  the  other,  as  though  urging  him  to  further  speed. 
He  lashed  the  horses  unmercifully  with  his  long  whip,  and 
with  wild  cries  of  encouragement  urged  them  on  to  further 
exertions.  Then  through  the  darkness  I  could  see  a  sort 
of  patch  of  grey  light  ahead  of  us,  as  though  there  were  a 
cleft  in  the  hills.  The  excitement  of  the  passengers  grew 
greater ;  the  crazy  coach  rocked  on  its  great  leather  springs, 
and  swayed  like  a  boat  tossed  on  a  stormy  sea.  I  had  to 
hold  on.  The  road  grew  more  level,  and  we  appeared  to  fly 


along.  Then  the  mountains  seemed  to  come  nearer  to  us 
on  each  side  and  to  frown  down  upon  us ;  we  were  enter- 
ing on  the  Borgo  Pass.  One  by  one  several  of  the  pas- 
sengers offered  me  gifts,  which  they  pressed  upon  me 
with  an  earnestness  which  would  take  no  denial;  these 
were  certainly  of  an  odd  and  varied  kind,  but  each  was 
given  in  simple  good  faith,  with  a  kindly  word,  and  a 
blessing,  and  that  strange  mixture  of  fear-meaning  move- 
ments which  I  had  seen  outside  the  hotel  at  Bistritz — the 
sign  of  the  cross  and  the  guard  against  the  evil  eye.  Then, 
as  we  flew  along,  the  driver  leaned  forward,  and  on  each 
side  the  passengers,  craning  over  the  edge  of  the  coach, 
peered  eagerly  into  the  darkness.  It  was  evident  that  some- 
thing very  exciting  was  either  happening  or  expected,  but 
though  I  asked  each  passenger,  no  one  would  give  me  the 
slightest  explanation.  This  state  of  excitement  kept  on  for 
some  little  time ;  and  at  last  we  saw  before  us  the  Pass 
opening  out  on  the  eastern  side.  There  were  dark,  rolling 
clouds  overhead,  and  in  the  air  the  heavy,  oppressive  sense 
of  thunder.  It  seemed  as  though  the  mountain  range  had 
separated  two  atmospheres,  and  that  now  we  had  got  into 
the  thunderous  one.  I  was  now  myself  looking  out  for  the 
conveyance  which  was  to  take  me  to  the  Count.  Each 
moment  I  expected  to  see  the  glare  of  lamps  through  the 
blackness ;  but  all  was  dark.  The  only  light  was  the  flicker- 
ing rays  of  our  own  lamps,  in  which  the  steam  from  our 
hard  driven  horses  rose  in  a  white  cloud.  We  could  see  now 
the  sandy  road  lying  white  before  us,  but  there  was  on  it 
no  sign  of  a  vehicle.  The  passengers  drew  back  widi  a 
sigh  of  gladness,  which  seemed  to  mock  my  own  disap- 
pointment. I  was  already  thinking  what  I  had  best  do, 
when  the  driver,  k)oking  at  his  watch,  said  to  the  others 
something  which  I  could  hardly  hear,  it  was  spoken  so 
quietly  and  in  so  low  a  tone ;  I  thought  it  was  "An  hour 
less  than  the  time."  Then  turning  to  me  he  said  in  German 
worse  than  my  own  : — 

"There  is  no  carriage  here.  The  Herr  is  not  expected 
after  all.  He  will  now  come  on  to  Bukovina,  and  return  to- 
morrow or  the  next  day ;  better  the  next  day."  Whilst  he 
was  speaking  the  horses  be^;'!'^  to  neigh  and  snort  and 


plunge  wildly,  so  that  the  driver  had  to  hold  them  up. 
Then,  amongst  a  chorus  of  screams  from  the  peasants  and 
a  universal  crossing  of  themselves,  a  caleche,  with  four 
horses,  drove  up  behind  us,  overtook  us,  and  drew  up 
beside  the  coach.  I  could  see  from  the  flash  of  our  lamps, 
as  the  rays  fell  on  them,  that  the  horses  were  coal-black 
and  splendid  animals.  They  were  driven  by  a  tall  man, 
with  a  long  brown  beard  and  a  great  black  hat,  which 
seemed  to  hide  his  face  from  us.  I  could  only  see  the 
gleam  of  a  pair  of  very  bright  eyes,  which  seemed  red  in 
the  lamplight,  as  he  turned  to  us.  He  said  to  the  driver : — 

"You  are  early  to-night,  my  friend."  The  man  stam- 
mered in  reply : — 

"The  English  Herr  was  in  a  hurry,"  to  which  the 
stranger  replied : — 

"That  is  why,  I  suppose,  you  wished  him  to  go  on  to 
Bukovina.  You  cannot  deceive  me,  my  friend ;  I  know  too 
much,  and  my  horses  are  swift."  As  he  spoke  he  smiled, 
and  the  lamplight  fell  on  a  hard-looking  mouth,  with  very 
red  lips  and  sharp-looking  teeth,  as  white  as  ivory.  One  of 
my  companions  whispered  to  another  the  line  from  Bur- 
ger's "Lenore" : — 

"Denn  die  Todten  reiten  schnell" — 
("For  the  dead  travel  fast.") 

The  strange  driver  evidently  heard  the  words,  for  h^ 
looked  up  with  a  gleaming  smile.  The  passenger  turned  his 
face  aw^ay,  at  the  same  time  putting  out  his  two  fingers  and 
crossing  himself.  "Give  me  the  Herr's  luggage,"  said  the 
driver;  and  with  exceeding  alacrity  my  bags  were  handed 
out  and  put  in  the  caleche.  Then  I  descended  from  the  side 
of  the  coach,  as  the  caleche  was  close  alongside,  the  driver 
helping  me  with  a  hand  which  caught  my  arm  in  a  grip  of 
steel;  his  strength  must  have  been  prodigious.  Without  a 
word  he  shook  his  reins,  the  horses  turned,  and  we  swept 
into  the  darkness  of  the  Pass.  As  I  looked  back  I  saw  the 
steam  from  the  horses  of  the  coach  by  the  light  of  the 
lamps,  and  projected  against  it  the  figures  of  my  late  com- 
panions crossing  themselves.  Then  the  driver  cracked  his 


whip  and  called  to  his  horses,  and  off  they  swept  on  their 
way  to  Bukovina.  As  they  sank  into  the  darkness  I  felt 
a  strange  chill,  and  a  lonely  feeling  came  over  me ;  but  a 
cloak  was  thrown  over  my  shoulders,  and  a  rug  across 
my  knees,  and  the  driver  said  in  excellent  German : — 

"The  night  is  chill,  mein  Herr,  and  my  master  the 
Count  bade  me  take  all  care  of  you.  There  is  a  flask  of 
slivovitz  (the  plum  brandy  of  the  country)  underneath  the 
seat,  if  you  should  require  it."  I  did  not  take  any,  but  it 
was  a  comfort  to  know  it  was  there  all  the  same.  I  felt  a 
little  strangely,  and  not  a  little  frightened.  I  think  had 
there  been  any  alternative  I  should  have  taken  it,  instead 
of  prosecuting  that  unknown  night  journey.  The  carriage 
went  at  a  hard  pace  straight  along,  then  we  made  a  com- 
plete turn  and  went  along  another  straight  road.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  we  were  simply  going  over  and  over  the  same 
ground  again;  and  so  I  took  note  of  some  salient  point, 
and  found  that  this  was  so.  I  would  have  liked  to  have 
asked  the  driver  what  this  all  meant,  but  I  really  feared 
to  do  so,  for  I  thought  that,  placed  as  I  was,  any  protest 
would  have  had  no  effect  in  case  there  had  been  an  inten- 
tion to  delay.  By-and-by,  however,  as  I  was  curious  to 
know  how  time  was  passing,  I  struck  a  match,  and  by  its 
flame  looked  at  my  watch ;  it  was  within  a  few  minutes  of 
midnight.  This  gave  me  a  sort  of  shock,  for  I  suppose  the 
general  superstition  about  midnight  was  increased  by  my 
recent  experiences.  I  waited  with  a  sick  feeling  of  sus- 

Then  a  dog  began  to  howl  somewhere  in  a  farmhouse 
far  down  the  road — a  long,  agonised  wailing,  as  if  from 
fear.  The  sound  was  taken  up  by  another  dog,  and  then 
another  and  another,  till,  borne  on  the  wind  which  now 
sighed  softly  through  the  Pass,  a  wild  howling  began, 
which  seemed  to  come  from  all  over  the  country,  as  far  as 
the  imagination  could  grasp  it  through  the  gloom  of  the 
night.  At  the  first  howl  the  horses  began  to  strain  and 
rear,  but  the  driver  spoke  to  them  soothingly,  and  they 
quieted  down,  but  shivered  and  sweated  as  though  after 
a  run-away  from  sudden  fright.  Then,  far  off  in  the  dis- 
tance,  from  the  mountains  on  each  side  of  u?  began  a 

louder  and   a  sharper   howling-that  of   wolves-which 
affected  both  the  horses  and  myself  m  the  same  way-f or 
fwas  mMed  to  jump  from  the  caleche  and  run   whds 
they  reared  again  and  plunged  mad  y,  so  that  the  drrver 
had  to  use  all  his  great  strength  to  keep  them  from  bolt- 
ing  In  a  few  minutes,  however,  my  own  ears  got  accus- 
iomed  to  the  sound,  and  the  horses  so  far  becarne  quiet 
SS  the  driver  was  able  to  descend  and  to  stand  before 
Aem   He  petted  and  soothed  them,  and  whispered  some- 
thW  in  their  ears,  as  I  have  heard  of  horse-tamers  doing, 
andl^h  extraordinary  eflEect.  for  "nderh.s  caresses^ they 
became  quite  manageable  agam,  though  they  still  trembled, 
m  driver  again  took  hil  seat,  and  shaking  h.s  reins 
started  off  at  a  great  pace.  This  time,  after  gomg  to  the 
far  side  of  the  Pass,  he  suddenly  turned  down  a  narrow 
roadway  which  ran  sharply  to  the  right. 

Soon  we  were  hemmed  in  with  trees,  which  m  places 
arched  r^ht  over  the  roadway  till  we  passed  as  through 
a  tunnel  f  and  again  great   frowning  rocks  guarded  us 
boldly  on  either  side.  Though  we  were  in  shete'  we  <:°"^^ 
hear  the  rising  wind,  for  it  moaned  and  whistled  through 
the  rocks,  and  the  branches  of  the  trees  crashed  together 
as  we  swept  along.  It  grew  colder  and  colder  still,  and  fine 
powdery  snow  began  to  fall,  so  that  soon  we  and  all  around 
Ss  were  covered  with  a  white  blanket.  The  keen  wind 
still  carried  the  howling  of  the  dogs,  though  this  grew 
fainter  as  we  went  on  our  way.  The  baying  of  the  wolves 
sounded  nrarer  and  nearer,  as  though  they  were  closing 
round  on  us  from  every  side.  I  grew  dreadfully  afraid 
and  the  horses  shared  my  fear.  The  dnver   however   was 
not  in  the  least  disturbed ;  he  kept  turning  his  head  to  left 
and  right,  but  I  could  not  see  anything  through  the  dark- 

""^Suddenly,  away  on  our  left,  I  saw  a  faint  flickering  blue 
flame  The  driver  saw  it  at  the  same  moment;  he  at  once 
checked  the  horses,  and.  jumping  to  the  gro™d.  disap- 
peared into  the  darkness.  I  did  not  know  what  to  do,  the 
•  less  as  the  howling  of  the  wolves  grew  closer ;  but  while 
I  wondered  the  driver  suddenly  appeared  agam,  and  with- 
out a  word  took  his  seat,  and  we  resumed  our  journey.  I 


think  I  must  have  fallen  asleep  and  kept  dreaming  of  the 
incident,  for  it  seemed  to  be  repeated  endlessly,  and  now- 
looking  back,  it  is  like  a  sort  of  awful  nightmare.  Once 
the  flame  appeared  so  near  the  road,  that  even  in  the 
darkness  around  us  I  could  watch  the  driver's  motions. 
He  went  rapidly  to  where  the  blue  flame  arose — it  must 
have  been  very  faint,  for  it  did  not  seem  to  illumine  the 
place  around  it  at  all — and  gathering  a  few  stones,  formed 
them  into  some  device.  Once  there  appeared  a  strange 
optical  effect :  when  he  stood  between  me  and  the  flame 
he  did  not  obstruct  it,  for  I  could  see  its  ghostly  flicker 
all  the  same.  This  startled  me,  but  as  the  effect  was  only 
momentary,  I  took  it  that  my  eyes  deceived  me  straining 
through  the  darkness.  Then  for  a  time  there  were  no  blue 
flames,  and  we  sped  onwards  through  the  gloom,  with  the 
howling  of  the  wolves  around  us,  as  though  they  were 
following  in  a  moving  circle. 

At  last  there  came  a  time  when  the  driver  went  further 
afield  than  he  had  yet  gone,  and  during  his  absence,  the 
horses  began  to  tremble  worse  than  ever  and  to  snort  and 
scream  with  fright.  I  could  not  see  any  cause  for  it,  for 
the  howling  of  the  wolves  had  ceased  altogether;  but  just 
then  the  moon,  sailing  through  the  black  clouds,  appeared 
behind  the  jagged  crest  of  a  beetling,  pine-clad  rock,  and 
by  its  light  I  saw  around  us  a  ring  of  wolves,  with  white 
teeth  and  lolling  red  tongues,  with  long,  sinewy  limbs  and 
shaggy  hair.  They  were  a  hundred  times  more  terrible  in 
the  grim  silence  which  held  them  than  even  when  they 
howled.  For  myself,  I  felt  a  sort  of  paralysis  of  fear.  It  is 
only  when  a  man  feels  himself  face  to  face  with  such 
horrors  that  he  can  understand  their  true  import. 

All  at  once  the  wolves  began  to  howl  as  though  the 
moonlight  had  had  some  peculiar  effect  on  them.  The 
horses  jumped  about  and  reared,  and  looked  helplessly 
round  with  eyes  that  rolled  in  a  way  painful  to  see;  but 
the  living  ring  of  terror  encompassed  them  on  every  side ; 
and  they  had  perforce  to  remain  within  it.  I  called  to  the 
coachman  to  come,  for  it  seemed  to  me  that  our  only 
chance  was  to  try  to  break  out  through  the  ring  and  to 
aid   his   approach.    I   shouted   and   beat   the   side   of   the 


caleche,  hoping  by  the  noise  to  scare  the  wolves  from  that 
side,  so  as  to  give  him  a  chance  of  reaching  the  trap.  How 
he  came  there,  I  know  not,  but  I  heard  his  voice  raised  in 
a  tone  of  imperious  command,  and  looking  towards  the 
sound,  saw  him  stand  in  the  roadway.  As  he  swept  his 
long  arms,  as  though  brushing  aside  some  impalpable  ob- 
stacle, the  wolves  fell  back  and  back  further  still.  Just  then 
a  heavy  cloud  passed  across  the  face  of  the  moon,  so 
that  we  were  again  in  darkness. 

When  I  could  see  again  the  driver  was  climbing  into 
the  caleche,  and  the  wolves  had  disappeared.  This  was  all 
so  strange  and  uncanny  that  a  dreadful  fear  came  upon 
me,  and  I  was  afraid  to  speak  or  move.  The  time  seemed 
interminable  as  we  swept  on  our  way,  now  in  almost  com- 
plete darkness,  for  the  rolling  clouds  obscured  the  moon. 
We  kept  on  ascending,  with  occasional  periods  of  quick 
descent,  but  in  the  main  always  ascending.  Suddenly,  I  be- 
came conscious  of  the  fact  that  the  driver  was  in  the  act 
of  pulling  up  the  horses  in  the  courtyard  of  a  vast  ruined 
castle,  from  whose  tall  black  windows  came  no  ray  of 
light,  and  whose  broken  battlements  showed  a  jagged  line 
against  the  moonlit  sky. 

JONATHAN    barker's   JOURNAL — Continued 

5  May.—l  must  have  been  asleep,  for  certainly  if  I  had 
been  fully  awake  I  must  have  noticed  the  approach  of  such 
a  remarkable  place.  In  the  gloom  the  courtyard  looked 
of  considerable  size,  and  as  several  dark  ways  led  from 
It  under  great  round  arches,  it  perhaps  seemed  bigger  than 
It  really  is.  I  have  not  yet  been  able  to  see  it  by  daylight. 

When  the  caleche  stopped,  the  driver  jumped  down 
and  held  out  his  hand  to  assist  me  to  alight.  Again  I  could 
not  but  notice  his  prodigious  strength.  His  hand  actually 
seemed  like  a  steel  vice  that  could  have  crushed  mine  if  he 
had  chosen.  Then  he  took  out  my  traps,  and  placed  them 
on  the  ground  beside  me  as  I  stood  close  to  a  great  door, 
old  and  studded  with  large  iron  nails,  and  set  in  a  project- 
ing doorway  of  massive  stone.  I  could  see  even  in  the 
dim  light  that  the  stone  was  massively  carved,  but  that  the 
carving  had  been  much  worn  by  time  and  weather.  As  I 
stood,  the  driver  jumped  again  into  his  seat  and  shook 
the  reins;  the  horses  started  forward,  and  trap  and  all 
disappeared  down  one  of  the  dark  openings. 

I  stood  in  silence  where  I  was,  for  I  did  not  know  what 
to  do.  Of  bell  or  knocker  there  was  no  sign;  through 
these  frowning  walls  and  dark  window  openings  it  was  not 
likely  that  my  voice  could  penetrate.  The  time  I  waited 
seemed  endless,  and  I  felt  doubts  and  fears  crowding  upon 
me.  What  sort  of  place  had  I  come  to,  and  among  what 
kind  of  people?  What  sort  of  grim  adventure  was  it  on 
which  I  had  embarked  ?  Was  this  a  customary  incident  in 
the  life  of  a  solicitor's  clerk  sent  out  to  explain  the  pur- 
chase of  a  London  estate  to  a  foreigner  ?  Solicitor's  clerk ' 
Mina  would  not  like  that.  Solicitor— for  just  before  leav- 
ing London  I  got  word  that  my  examination  was  success- 



f ul ;  and  I  am  now  a  full-blown  solicitor !  I  began  to  rub 
my  eyes  and  pinch  myself  to  see  if  I  were  awake.  It  all 
seemed  like  a  horrible  nightmare  to  me,  and  I  expected 
that  I  should  suddenly  awake,  and  find  myself  at  home, 
with  the.  dawn  struggling  in  through  the  windows,  as  I 
had  now  and  again  felt  in  the  morning  after  a  day  of 
overwork.  But  my  flesh  answered  the  pinching  test,  and 
my  eyes  were  not  to  be  deceived.  I  was  indeed  awake  and 
among  the  Carpathians.  All  I  could  do  now  was  to  be 
patient,  and  to  wait  the  coming  of  the  morning. 

Just  as  I  had  come  to  this  conclusion  I  heard  a  heavy 
step  approaching  behind  the  great  door,  and  saw  through 
the  chinks  the  gleam  of  a  coming  light.  Then  there  was  the 
sound  of  rattling  chains  and  the  clanking  of  massive  bolts 
drawn  back,  A  key  was  turned  with  the  loud  grating  noise 
of  long  disuse,  and  the  great  door  swung  back. 

Within,  stood  a  tall  old  man,  clean  shaven  save  for  a 
long  white  moustache,  and  clad  in  black  from  head  to 
foot,  without  a  single  speck  of  colour  about  him  any- 
where. He  held  in  his  hand  an.  antique  silver  lamp,  in 
which  the  flame  burned  without  chimney  or  globe  of  any 
kind,  throwing  long  quivering  shadows  as  it  flickered  in 
the  draught  of  the  open  door.  The  old  man  motioned  me 
in  with  his  right  hand  with  a  courtly  gesture,  saying  in 
excellent  English,  but  with  a  strange  intonation : — 

"Welcome  to  my  house !  Enter  freely  and  of  your  own 
will !"  He  made  no  motion  of  stepping  to  meet  me,  but 
stood  like  a  statue,  as  though  his  gesture  of  welcome  had 
fixed  him  into  stone.  The  instant,  however,  that  I  had 
stepped  over  the  threshold,  he  moved  impulsively  forward, 
and  holding  out  his  hand  grasped  mine  with  a  strength 
which  made  me  wince,  an  effect  which  was  not  lessened  by 
the  fact  that  it  seemed  as  cold  as  ice — more  like  the  hand 
of  a  dead  than  a  living  man.  Again  he  said : — 

"Welcome  to  my  house.  Come  freely.  Go  safely;  and 
leave  something  of  the  happiness  yqu  bring!"  The  strength 
of  the  handshake  was  so  much  akin  to  that  which  I  had 
noticed  in  the  driver,  whose  face  I  had  not  seen,  that  for 
a  moment  I  doubted  if  it  were  not  the  same  person  to 

i8  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

whom  I  was  speaking;  so  to  make  sure,  I  said  interro- 
gatively : — 

** Count  Dracula?"  He  bowed  in  a  courtly  way  as  he  re- 
plied : — 

"I  am  Dracula;  and  I  bid  you  welcome,  Mr.  Harker, 
to  my  house.  Come  in ;  the  night  air  is  chill,  and  you  must 
need  to  eat  and  rest."  As  he  was  speaking,  he  put  the  lamp 
on  a  bracket  on  the  wall,  and  stepping  out,  took  my  lug- 
gage; he  had  carried  it  in  before  I  could  forestall  him.  I 
protested  but  he  insisted : — 

"Nay,  sir,  you  are  my  guest.  It  is  late,  and  my  people 
are  not  available.  Let  me  see  to  your  comfort  myself."  He 
insisted  on  carrying  my  traps  along  the  passage,  and  then 
up  a  great  winding  stair,  and  along  another  great  pas- 
sage, on  whose  stone  floor  our  steps  rang  heavily.  At  the 
end  of  this  he  threw  open  a  heavy  door,  and  I  rejoiced 
to  see  within  a  well-lit  room  in  which  a  table  was  spread 
for  supper,  and  on  whose  mighty  hearth  a  great  fire  of 
logs,  freshly  replenished,  flamed  and  flared. 

The  Count  nalted,  putting  down  my  bags,  closed  the 
door,  and  crossing  the  room,  opened  another  door,  which 
led  into  a  small  octagonal  room  lit  by  a  single  lamp,  and 
seemingly  without  a  window  of  any  sort.  Passing  through 
this,  he  opened  another  door,  and  motioned  me  to  enter. 
It  was  a  welcome  sight ;  for  here  was  a  great  bedroom 
well  lighted  and  warmed  with  another  log  fire, — also  added 
to  but  lately,  for  the  top  logs  were  fresh — which  sent  a 
hollow  roar  up  the  wide  chimney.  The  Count  himself  left 
my  luggage  inside  and  withdrew,  saying,  before  he  closed 
the  door : — 

"You  will  need,  after  your  journey,  to  refresh  yourself 
by  making  your  toilet.  I  trust  you  will  find  all  you  wish. 
When  you  are  ready,  come  into  the  other  room,  where  you 
will  find  your  supper  prepared." 

The  light  and  warmth  and  the  Count's  courteous  wel- 
come seemed  to  have  dissipated  all  my  doubts  and  fears. 
Having  then  reached  my  normal  state,  I  discovered  that 
I  was  half  famished  with  hunger;  so  making  a  hasty 
toilet,  I  went  into  the  other  room. 

I  found  supper  already  laid  out.  My  host,  who  stood 


on  one  side  of  the  great  fireplace,  leaning  against  the  stone- 
work, made  a  graceful  wave  of  his  hand  to  the  table,  and 
and  said : — 

"I  pray  you,  be  seated  and  sup  how  you  please.  You 
will,  I  trust,  excuse  me  that  I  do  not  join  you;  but  I  have 
dined  already,  and  I  do  not  sup." 

I  handed  to  him  the  sealed  letter  which  Mr.  Hawkins 
had  entrusted  to  me.  He  opened  it  and  read  it  gravely ; 
then,  with  a  charming  smile,  he  handed  it  to  me  to  read. 
One  passage  of  it,  at  least,  gave  me  a  thrill  of  pleasure. 

**I  must  regret  that  an  attack  of  gout,  from  which 
malady  I  am  a  constant  sufferer,  forbids  absolutely  any 
travelling  on  my  part  for  some  time  to  come ;  but  I  am 
happy  to  say  I  can  send  a  sufficient  substitute,  one  in  whom 
I  have  every  possible  confidence.  He  is  a  young  man,  full 
of  energy  and  talent  in  his  own  way,  and  of  a  very  faith- 
ful disposition.  He  is  discreet  and  silent,  and  has  grown 
into  manhood  in  my  service.  He  shall  be  ready  to  attend 
on  you  when  you  will  during  his  stay,  and  shall  take  your 
instructions  in  all  matters." 

The  Count  himself  came  forward  and  took  off  the  cover 
of  a  dish,  and  I  fell  to  at  once  on  an  excellent  roast 
chicken.  This,  with  some  cheese  and  a  salad  and  a  bottle 
of  old  Tokay,  of  which  I  had  two  glasses,  was  my  supper. 
During  the  time  I  was  eating  it  the  Count  asked  me  many 
questions  as  to  my  journey,  and  I  told  him  by  degrees  all 
I  had  experienced. 

By  this  time  I  had  finished  my  supper,  and  by  my  host's 
desire  had  drawn  up  a  chair  by  the  fire  and  begun  to  smoke 
a  cigar  which  he  offered  me,  at  the  same  time  excusing 
himself  that  he  did  not  smoke.  I  had  now  an  opportunity 
of  observing  him,  and  found  him  of  a  very  marked 

His  face  was  a  strong — a  very  strong — aquiline,  with 
high  bridge  of  the  thin  nose  and  peculiarly  arched  nostrils ; 
with  lofty  domed  forehead,  and  hair  growing  scantily 
round  the  temples  but  profusely  elsewhere.  His  eyebrows 
were  very  massive,  almost  meeting  over  the  nose,  and 
with  bushy  hair  that  seemed  to  curl  in  its  own  profusion. 
The  mouth,  so  far  as  I  could  see  it  under  the  heavy  mous- 


tache,  was  fixed  and  rather  cruel-looking,  with  peculiarly 
sharp  white  teeth;  these  protruded  over  the  lips,  whose 
remarkable  ruddiness  showed  astonishing  vitality  in  a  man 
of  his  years.  For  the  rest,  his  ears  were  pale,  and  at  the 
tops  extremely  pointed ;  the  chin  was  broad  and  strong, 
and  the  cheeks  firm  though  thin.  The  general  effect  was 
one  of  extraordinary  pallor. 

Hitherto  I  had  noticed  the  backs  of  his  hands  as  they 
lay  on  his  knees  in  the  firelight,  and  they  had  seemed 
rather  white  and  fine;  but  seeing  them  now  close  to  me, 
I  could  not  but  notice  that  they  were  rather  coarse — 
broad,  with  squat  fingers.  Strange  to  say,  there  were  hairs 
in  the  centre  of  the  palm.  The  nails  were  long  and  fine, 
and  cut  to  a  sharp  point.  As  the  Count  leaned  over  me  and 
his  hands  touched  me,  I  could  not  repress  a  shudder.  It 
may  have  been  that  his  breath  was  rank,  but  a  horrible 
feeling  of  nausea  came  over  me,  which,  do  what  I  would, 
I  could  not  conceal.  The  Count,  evidently  noticing  it,  drew 
back;  and  with  a  grim  sort  of  smile,  which  showed  more 
than  he  had  ^yet  done  his  protuberant  teeth,  sat  himself 
down  again  on  his  own  side  of  the  fireplace.  We  were  both 
silent  for  a  while ;  and  as  I  looked  towards  the  window  I 
saw  the  first  dim  streak  of  the  coming  dawn.  There  seemed 
a  strange  stillness  over  everything;  but  as  I  listened  I 
heard  as  if  from  down  below  in  the  valley  the  howling  of 
many  wolves.  The  Count's  eyes  gleamed,  and  he  said: — 

"Listen  to  them — the  children  of  the  night.  What  music 
they  make !"  Seeing,  I  suppose,  some  expression  in  my 
face  strange  to  him,  he  added : — 

**Ah,  sir,  you  dwellers  in  the  city  cannot  enter  into  the 
feelings  of  the  hunter."  Then  he  rose  and  said : — 

"But  you  must  be  tired.  Your  bedroom  is  all  ready, 
and  to-rnorrow  you  shall  sleep  as  late  as  you  will.  I  have 
to  be  away  till  the  afternoon;  so  sleep  well  and  dream 
well !"  With  a  courteous  bow,  he  opened  for  me  himself 
the  door  to  the  octagonal  room,  and  I  entered  my  bed- 
room. .  .  . 

I  am  all  in  a  sea  of  wonders.  I  doubt;  I  fear;  I  think 
strange  things,  which  I  dare  not  confess  to  my  own  soul. 
God  keep  me,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  those  dear  to  me ! 


7  May. — It  is  again  early  morning,  but  I  have  rested 
and  enjoyed  the  last  twenty- four  hours.  I  slept  till  late 
in  the  day,  and  awoke  of  my  own  accord.  When  I  had 
dressed  myself  I  went  into  the  room  where  we  had  supped» 
and  found  a  cold  breakfast  laid  out,  with  coffee  kept  hot 
by  the  pot  being  placed  on  the  hearth.  There  was  a  card 
on  the  table,  on  which  was  written : — 

"I  have  to  be  absent  for  a  while.  Do  not  wait  for  me. — 
D."  I  set  to  and  enjoyed  a  hearty  meal.  When  I  had  done, 
I  looked  for  a  bell,  so  that  I  might  let  the  servants  know 
I  had  finished  but  I  could  not  find  one.  There  are  certainly 
odd  deficiencies  in  the  house,  considering  the  extraordi- 
nary evidences  of  wealth  which  are  round  me.  The  table 
service  is  of  gold,  and  so  beautifully  wrought  that  it  must 
be  of  immense  value.  The  curtains  and  upholstery  of  the 
chairs  and  sofas  and  the  hangings  of  my  bed  are  of  the 
costliest  and  most  beautiful  fabrics,  and  must  have  been 
of  fabulous  value  when  they  were  made,  for  they  are 
centuries  old,  though  in  excellent  order.  I  saw  something 
like  them  in  Hampton  Court,  but  there  they  were  worn 
and  frayed  and  moth-eaten.  But  still  in  none  of  the  rooms 
is  there  a  mirror.  There  is  not  even  a  toilet  glass  on  my 
table,  and  I  had  to  get  the  little  shaving  glass  from  my 
bag  before  I  could  either  shave  or  brush  my  hair.  I  have 
not  yet  seen  a  servant  anywhere,  or  heard  a  sound  near  the 
castle  except  the  howling  of  wolves.  Some  time  after  I 
had  finished  my  meal — I  do  not  know  whether  to  call  it 
breakfast  or  dinner,  for  it  was  between  five  and  six  o'clock 
when  I  had  it — I  looked  about  for  something  to  read,  for 
I  did  not  like  to  go  about  the  castle  until  I  had  asked  the 
Count's  permission.  There  was  absolutely  nothing  in  the 
room,  book,  newspaper,  or  even  writing  materials;  so  I 
opened  another  door  in  the  room  and  found  a  sort  of  li- 
brary. The  door  opposite  mine  I  tried,  but  found  it  locked. 

In  the  library  I  found,  to  my  great  delight,  a  vast  num- 
ber of  English  books,  whole  shelves  full  of  them,  and 
bound  volumes  of  magazines  and  newspapers.  A  table  in 
the  centre  was  littered  with  English  magazines  and  news- 
papers, though  none  of  them  were  of  very  recent  date. 
The  books  were  of  the  most  varied  kind — history,  geog- 


raphy,  politics,  political  economy,  botany,  geology,  law — 
all  relating  to  England  and  English  life  and  customs  and 
manners.  There  were  even  such  books  of  reference  as  the 
London  Directory,  the  "Red"  and  "Blue"  books,  Whit- 
aker's  Almanac,  the  Army  and  Navy  Lists,  and — it  some- 
how gladdened  my  heart  to  see  it — the  Law  List. 

Whilst  I  was  looking  at  the  books,  the  door  opened,  and 
the  Count  entered.  He  saluted  me  in  a  hearty  way,  and 
hoped  that  I  had  had  a  good  night's  rest.  Then  he  went 
on: — 

"I  am  glad  you  found  your  way  in  here,  for  I  am  sure 
there  is  much  that  will  interest  you.  These  companions" 
— and  he  laid  his  hand  on  some  of  the  books — "have  been 
good  friends  to  me,  and  for  some  years  past,  ever  since  I 
had  the  idea  of  going  to  London,  have  given  me  many, 
many  hours  of  pleasure.  Through  them  I  have  come  to 
know  your  great  England ;  and  to  know  her  is  to  love  her. 
I  long  to  go  through  the  crowded  streets  of  your  mighty 
London,  to  be  in  the  midst  of  the  whirl  and  rush  of 
humanity,  to  share  its  life,  its  change,  its  death,  and  all  that 
makes  it  what  it  is.  But  alas !  as  yet  I  only  know  your  ton- 
gue through  books.  To  you,  m}^  friend,  I  look  that  I  know 
it  to  speak." 

"But,  Count,"  I  said,  "you  know  and  speak  English 
thoroughly !"  He  bowed  gravely. 

'T  thank  you,  my  friend,  for  your  all  too-flattering 
estimate,  but  yet  I  fear  that  I  am  but  a  little  way  on 
the  road  I  would  travel.  True,  I  know  the  grammar  and 
the  words,  but  yet  I  know  not  how  to  speak  them." 

"Indeed,"  I  said,  "you  speak  excellently." 

"Not  so,"  he  answered.  "Well,  I  know  that,  did  I  move 
and  speak  in  your  London,  none  there  are  who  would  not 
know  me  for  a  stranger.  That  is  not  enough  for  me.  Here 
I  am  noble ;  I  am  boyar;  the  common  people  know  me, 
and  I  am  master.  But  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land,  he  is 
no  one ;  men  know  him  not — and  to  know  not  is  to  care 
not  for.  I  am  content  if  I  am  like  the  rest,  so  that  no  man 
stops  if  he  sees  me,  or  pause  in  his  speaking  if  he  hear  my 
words,  *Ha,  ha !  a  stranger !'  I  have  been  so  long  master 
that  I  would  be  master  still — or  at  least  that  none  other 

should  be  master  of  me.  You  come  to  me  not  alone  as  agent 
of  my  friend  Peter  Hawkins,  of  Exeter,  to  tell  me  all 
about  my  new  estate  in  London.  You  shall,  I  trust,  rest 
here  with  me  awhile,  so  that  by  our  talking  I  may  learn 
the  English  intonation;  and  I  would  that  you  tell  me  when 
I  make  error,  even  of  the  smallest,  in  my  speakmg.  I  am 
sorry  that  I  had  to  be  away  so  long  to-day ;  but  you  will, 
I  know,  forgive  one  who  has  so  many  important  affairs  in 

hand."  .  , 

Of  course  I  said  all  I  could  about  being  willing,  and 
asked  if  I  might  come  into  that  room  when  I  chose.  He 
answered  :  "Yes,  certainly,"  and  added  : — 

"You  mav  go  anywhere  you  wish  in  the  castle,  except 
where  the  doors  are  locked,  where  of  course  you  will  not 
wish  to  go.  There  is  reason  that  all  things  are  as  they 
are,  and  did  you  see  with  my  eyes  and  know  with  my 
knowledge,  you  would  perhaps  better  understand."  I  said 
I  was  sure  of  this,  and  then  he  went  on : — 

"We  are  in  Transylvania ;  and  Transylvania  is  not  Eng- 
land. Our  ways  are  not  your  ways,  and  there  shall  be  to 
you  many  strange  things.  Nay,  from  what  you  have  told 
me  of  your  experiences  already,  you  know  something  oi 
what  strange  things  there  may  be." 

This  led  to  much  conversation;  and  as  it  was  evident 
that  he  wanted  to  talk,  if  only  for  talking's  sake,  I  asked 
him  many  questions  regarding  things  that  had  already 
happened  to  me  or  come  within  my  notice.  Sometimes  he 
sheered  off  the  subject,  or  turned  the  conversation  by  pre- 
tending not  to  understand ;  but  generally  he  answered  all 
I  asked  most  frankly.  Then  as  time  went  on,  and  I  had  got 
somewhat  bolder,  I  asked  him  of  some  of  the  strange 
things  of  the  preceding  night,  as,  for  instance,  why  the 
coachman  went  to  the  places  where  he  had  seen  the  blue 
flames.  He  then  explained  to  me  that  it  was  commonly 
believed  that  on  a  certain  night  of  the  year — last  night,  m 
fact,  when  all  evil  spirits  are  supposed  to  have  unchecked 
sway — a  blue  flame  is  seen  over  any  place  where  treasure 
has  been  concealed.  "That  treasure  has  been  hidden,"  he 
went  on,  "in  the  region  through  which  you  came  last  night, 
there  can  be  but  little  doubt ;  for  it  was  the  ground  fought 


over  for  centuries  by  the  Wallachian,  the  Saxon,  and  the 
Turk.  Why,  there  is  hardly  a  foot  of  soil  in  all  this  region 
that  has  not  been  enriched  by  the  blood  of  men,  patriots 
or  invaders.  In  old  days  there  were  stirring  times,  when 
the  Austrian  and  the  Hungarian  came  up  in  hordes,  and 
the  patriots  went  out  to  meet  them — men  and  women,  the 
aged  and  the  children  too — and  waited  their  coming  on 
the  rocks  above  the  passes,  that  they  might  sweep  de- 
struction on  them  with  their  artificial  avalanches.  When 
the  invader  was  triumphant  he  found  but  little,  for  what- 
ever there  was  had  been  sheltered  in  the  friendly  soil." 

"But  how,"  said  I,  *'can  it  have  remained  so  long  un- 
discovered, when  there  is  a  sure  index  to  it  if  men  will  but 
take  the  trouble  to  look?"  The  Count  smiled,  and  as  his 
lips  ran  back  over  his  gums,  the  long,  sharp,  canine  teeth 
showed  out  strangely ;  he  answered  : — 

''Because  your  peasant  is  at  heart  a  coward  and  a  fool ! 
Those  flames  only  appear  on  one  night ;  and  on  that  night 
no  man  of  this  land  will,  if  he  can  help  it,  stir  without  his 
doors.  And,  dear  sir,  even  if  he  did  he  would  not  know 
what  to  do.  Why,  even  the  peasant  that  you  tell  me  of  who 
marked  the  place  of  the  flame  would  not  know  where  to 
look  in  daylight  even  for  his  own  work.  Even  you  would 
not,  I  dare  be  sworn,  be  able  to  find  these  places  again?" 

''There  you  are  right,"  I  said.  "I  know  no  more  than 
the  dead  where  even  to  look  for  them."  Then  we  drifted 
into  other  matters. 

"Come."  he  said  at  last,  "tell  me  of  London  and  of  the 
house  which  you  have  procured  for  me."  With  an  apology 
for  my  remissness,  I  went  into  my  own  room  to  get  the 
papers  from  my  bag.  Whilst  I  was  placing  them  in  order 
I  heard  a  rattling  of  china  and  silver  in  the  next  room, 
and  as  I  passed  through,  noticed  that  the  table  had  been 
cleared  and  the  lamp  lit,  for  it  was  by  this  time  deep  into 
the  dark.  The  lamps  were  also  lit  in  the  study  or  library, 
and  I  found  the  Count  lying  on  the  sofa,  reading,  of  all 
things  in  the  world,  an  English  Bradshaw's  Guide.  When 
I  came  in  he  cleared  the  books  and  papers  from  the  table ; 
and  with  him  I  went  into  plans  and  deeds  and  figures  of  all 
sorts.  He  was  interested  in  everything,  and  asked  me  a 


myriad  questions  about  the  place  and  its  surroundings.  He 
clearly  had  studied  beforehand  all  he  could  get  on  the 
subject  of  the  neighbourhood,  for  he  evidently  at  the  end 
knew  very  much  more  than  I  did.  When  I  remarked  this, 
he  answered : — 

'*Well,  but,  my  friend,  is  it  not  needful  that  I  should? 
When  I  go  there  I  shall  be  all  alone,  and  my  friend  Harker 
Jonathan — nay,  pardon  me,  I  fall  into  my  country's  habit 
of  putting  your  patronymic  first — my  friend  Jonathan 
Harker  will  not  be  by  my  side  to  correct  and  aid  me.  He 
will  be  in  Exeter,  miles  away,  probably  working  at  papers 
of  the  law  with  my  other  friend,  Peter  Hawkins.  So !" 

We  went  thoroughly  into  the  business  of  the  purchase 
of  the  estate  at  Purfleet.  When  I  had  told  him  the  facts 
and  got  his  signature  to  the  necessary  papers,  and  had 
written  a  letter  with  them  ready  to  post  to  Mr.  Hawkins, 
he  began  to  ask  me  how  I  had  come  across  so  suitable  a 
place.  I  read  to  him  the  notes  which  I  had  made  at  the 
time,  and  which  I  inscribe  here : — 

**At  Purfleet,  on  a  by-road,  I  came  across  just  such  a 
place  as  seemed  to  be  required,  and  where  was  displayed  a 
dilapidated  notice  that  the  place  was  for  sale.  It  is  sur- 
rounded by  a  high  wall,  of  ancient  structure,  built  of  heavy 
stones,  and  has  not  been  repaired  for  a  large  number  of 
years.  The  closed  gates  are  of  heavy  old  oak  and  iron,  all 
eaten  with  rust. 

"The  estate  is  called  Carfax,  no  doubt  a  corruption  of 
the  old  Quatre  Face,  as  the  house  is  four-sided,  agreeing 
with  the  cardinal  points  of  the  compass.  It  contains  in  all 
some  twenty  acres,  quite  surrounded  by  the  solid  stone  wall 
above  mentioned.  There  are  many  trees  on  it,  which  make 
it  in  places  gloomy,  and  there  is  a  deep,  dark-looking  pond 
or  small  lake,  evidently  fed  by  some  springs,  as  the  water 
is  clear  and  flows  away  in  a  fair-sized  stream.  The  house 
is  very  large  and  of  all  periods  back,  I  should  say,  to 
mediaeval  times,  for  one  part  is  of  stone  immensely  thick, 
with  only  a  few  windows  high  up  and  heavily  barred  with 
iron.  It  looks  like  part  of  a  keep,  and  is  close  to  an  old 
chapel  or  church.  I  could  not  enter  it,  as  I  had  not  the  key 
of  the  door  leadin«y  to  it  from  the  house,  but  I  have  taken 


with  my  kodak  views  of  it  from  various  points.  The 
house  has  been  added  to  but  in  a  very  stragghng  way,  and 
I  can  only  guess  at  the  amount  of  ground  it  covers,  which 
must  be  very  great.  There  are  but  few  houses  close  at 
hand,  one  being  a  very  large  house  only  recently  added  to 
and  formed  into  a  private  lunatic  asylum.  It  is  not,  how- 
ever, visible  from  the  grounds." 

When  I  had  finished,  he  said : — 

'T  am  glad  that  it  is  old  and  big.  I  myself  am  of  an 
old  family,  and  to  live  in  a  new  house  would  kill  me.  A 
house  cannot  be  made  habitable  in  a  day;  and,  after  all, 
how  few  days  go  to  make  up  a  century.  I  rejoice  alsc 
ihat  there  is  a  chapel  of  old  times.  We  Transylvanian 
nobles  love  not  to  think  that  our  bones  may  lie  amongst 
the  common  dead.  I  seek  not  gaiety  nor  mirth,  not  the 
bright  voluptuousness  of  much  sunshine  and  sparkling 
waters  which  please  the  young  and  gay.  I  am  no  longer 
young;  and  my  heart,  through  weary  years  of  mourning 
over  the  dead,  is  not  attuned  to  mirth.  Moreover,  the  walls 
of  my  castle  are  broken ;  the  shadows  are  many,  and  the 
wind  breathes  cold  through  the  broken  battlements  and 
casements.  I  love  the  shade  and  the  shadow,  and  would 
be  alone  with  m}'  thoughts  when  I  may."  Somehow  his 
words  and  his  look  did  not  seem  to  accord,  or  else  it  was 
that  his  cast  of  face  made  his  smile  look  malignant  and 

Presently,  with  an  excuse,  he  left  me,  asking  me  to  put 
all  my  papers  together.  He  was  some  little  time  away,  and 
I  began  to  look  at  some  of  the  books  around  me.  One  was 
an  atlas,  which  I  found  opened  naturally  at  England,  as  if 
that  map  had  been  much  used.  On  looking  at  it  I  found  in 
certain  places  little  rings  marked,  and  on  examining  these 
I  noticed  that  one  was  near  London  on  the  east  side,  mani- 
festly where  his  new  estate  was  situated ;  the  other  two 
were  Exeter,  and  Whitby  on  the  Yorkshire  coast. 

It  was  the  better  part  of  an  hour  when  the  Count  re- 
turned. "Aha!"  he  said;  ''still  at  your  books?  Good!  But 
you  must  not  work  always.  Come ;  I  am  informed  that 
your  supper  is  ready."  He  took  my  arm,  and  we  went  into 
the  next  room,  where  I  found  an  excellent  supper  ready  on 


the  table.  The  Count  again  excused  himself,  as  he  had 
dined  out  on  his  being  away  from  home.  But  he  sat  as  on 
the  previous  night,  and  chatted  whilst  I  ate.  After  supper 
I  smoked,  as  on  the  last  evening,  and  the  Count  stayed 
with  me,  chatting  and  asking  questions  on  every  conceiv- 
able subject,  hour  after  hour.  I  felt  that  it  was  getting  very 
late  indeed,  but  I  did  not  say  anything,  for  I  felt  under 
obligation  to  meet  my  host's  wishes  in  every  way.  I  was 
not  sleepy,  as  the  long  sleep  yesterday  had  fortified  me ; 
but  I  could  not  help  experiencing  that  chill  which  comes 
over  one  at  the  coming  of  the  dawn,  which  is  like,  in  its 
way,  the  turn  of  the  tide.  They  say  that  people  who  are 
near  death  die  generally  at  the  change  to  the  dawn  or  at 
the  turn  of  the  tide ;  any  one  who  has  when  tired,  and  tied 
as  it  were  to  his  post,  experienced  this  change  in  the  atmos- 
phere can  well  believe  it.  All  at  once  we  heard  the  crow 
of  a  cock  coming  up  with  preternatural  shrillness  through 
the  clear  morning  air;  Count  Dracula,  jumping  to  his  feet, 
said : — 

"Why,  there  is  the  morning  again !  How  remiss  I  am  to 
let  you  stay  up  so  long.  You  must  make  your  conversation 
regarding  my  dear  new  country  of  England  less  interest- 
ing, so  that  I  may  not  forget  how  time  flies  by  us,"  and, 
with  a  courtly  bow,  he  quickly  left  me. 

I  went  into  my  own  room  and  drew  the  curtains,  but 
there  was  little  to  notice ;  my  window  opened  into  the 
courtyard,  all  I  could  see  was  the  warm  grey  of  quicken- 
ing sky.  So  I  pulled  the  curtains  again,  and  have  written 
of  this  day. 

8  May. — I  began  to  fear  as  I  wrote  in  this  book  that  I 
was  getting  too  diffuse ;  but  now  I  am  glad  that  I  went  into 
detail  from  the  first,  for  there  is  something  so  strange  about 
this  place  and  all  in  it  that  I  cannot  but  feel  uneasy.  I  wish 
I  were  safe  out  of  it,  or  that  I  had  never  come.  It  may  be 
that  this  strange  night-existence  is  telling  on  me  ;  but  would 
that  that  were  all !  If  there  were  any  one  to  talk  to  I  could 
bear  it,  but  there  is  no  one.  I  have  only  the  Count  to  speak 
with,  and  he ! — I  fear  I  am  myself  the  only  living  soul 
within  the  place-  Let  me  be  prosaic  so  far  as  facts  can  be : 


it  will  help  me  to  bear  up,  and  imagination  must  not  nm 
riot  with  me.  If  it  does  I  am  lost.  Let  me  say  at  once  how 
I  stand — or  seem  to. 

I  only  slept  a  few  hours  when  I  went  to  bed,  and  feel- 
ing that  I  could  not  sleep  any  more,  got  up.  I  had  hung  my 
shaving  glass  by  the  window,  and  was  just  beginning  to 
shave.  Suddenly  I  felt  a  hand  on  my  shoulder,  and  heard 
the  Count's  voice  saying  to  me,  '*Good-morning."  I  started, 
for  it  amazed  me  that  I  had  not  seen  him,  since  the  reflec- 
tion of  the  glass  covered  the  whole  room  behind  me.  In 
starting  I  had  cut  myself  slightly,  but  did  not  notice  it  at 
the  moment.  Having  answered  the  Count's  salutation,  I 
turned  to  the  glass  again  to  see  how  I  had  been  mistaken. 
This  time  there  could  be  no  error,  for  the  man  was  close 
to  me,  and  I  could  see  him  over  my  shoulder.  But  there  was 
no  reflection  of  him  in  the  mirror!  The  whole  room  be- 
hind me  was  displayed ;  but  there  was  no  sign  of  a  man  in 
it,  except  myself.  This  was  startling,  and,  coming  on  the 
top  of  so  many  strange  things,  was  beginning  to  increase 
that  vague  feeling  of  uneasiness  which  I  always  had  when 
the  Count  is  near ;  but  at  the  instant  I  saw  that  the  cut  had 
bled  a  little,  and  the  blood  was  trickling  over  my  chin.  I 
laid  down  the  razor,  turning  as  I  did  so  half  round  to  look 
for  some  sticking  plaster.  When  the  Count  saw  my  face, 
his  eyes  blazed  with  a  sort  of  demoniac  fury,  and  he  sud- 
denly made  a  grab  at  my  throat.  I  drew  away,  and  his 
hand  touched  the  string  of  beads  which  held  the  crucifix. 
It  made  an  instant  change  in  him,  for  the  fury  passed  so 
quickly  that  I  could  hardly  believe  that  it  was  ever  there. 

**Take  care,"  he  said,  ''take  care  how  you  cut  yourself. 
It  is  more  dangerous  than  you  think  in  this  country."  Then 
seizing  the  shaving  glass,  he  went  on :  "And  this  is  the 
wretched  thing  that  has  done  the  mischief.  It  is  a  foul 
bauble  of  man's  vanity.  Away  with  it!"  and  opening  the 
heavy  window  with  one  wrench  of  his  terrible  hand,  he 
flung  out  the  glass,  which  was  shattered  into  a  thousand 
pieces  on  the  stones  of  the  courtyard  far  below.  Then  he 
withdrew  without  a  word.  It  is  very  annoying,  for  I  do  not 
see  how  I  am  to  shave,  unless  in  my  watch-case  or  the 
bottom  of  the  shaving-pot,  which  is  fortunately  of  metal. 


When  I  went  into  the  dining-room,  breakfast  was  pre- 
pared ;  but  I  could  not  find  the  Count  anywhere.  So  I 
breakfasted  alone.  It  is  strange  that  as  yet  I  have  not  seen 
the  Count  eat  or  drink.  He  must  be  a  very  peculiar  man ! 
After  breakfast  I  did  a  little  exploring  in  the  castle.  I  went 
out  on  the  stairs,  and  found  a  room  looking  towards  the 
South.  The  view  was  magnificent,  and  from  where  I  stood 
there  was  every  opportunity  of  seeing  it.  The  castle  is  on 
the  very  edge  of  a  terrible  precipice.  A  stone  falling  from 
the  window  would  fall  a  thousand  feet  without  touching 
anything!  As  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  is  a  sea  of  green 
tree  tops,  with  occasionally  a  deep  rift  where  there  is  a 
chasm;  Here  and  there  are  silver  threads  where  the  rivers 
wind  in  deep  gorges  through  the  forests. 

But  I  am  not  in  heart  to  describe  beauty,  for  when  I 
had  seen  the  view  I  explored  further ;  doors,  doors,  doors 
everywhere,  and  all  locked  and  bolted.  In  no  place  save 
from  the  windows  in  the  castle  walls  is  there  an  available 

The  castle  is  a  veritable  prison,  and  I  am  a  prisoner! 

JONATHAN  barker's  JOURNAL — Continued 

When  I  found  that  I  was  a  prisoner  a  sort  of  wild  feeling 
came  over  me.  I  rushed  up  and  down  the  stairs,  trying 
every  door  and  peering  out  of  every  window  I  could  find ; 
but  after  a  little  the  conviction  of  my  helplessness  over- 
powered all  other  feelings.  When  I  look  back  after  a  few 
hours  I  think  I  must  have  been  mad  for  the  time,  for  I 
behaved  much  as  a  rat  does  in  a  trap.  When,  however,  the 
conviction  had  come  to  me  that  I  was  helpless  I  sat  down 
quietly — as  quietly  as  I  have  ever  done  anything  in  my  life 
— and  began  to  think  over  what  was  best  to  be  done.  I  am 
thinking  still,  and  as  yet  have  come  to  no  definite  conclu- 
sion. Of  one  thing  only  am  I  certain ;  that  it  is  no  use  mak- 
ing my  ideas  known  to  the  Count.  He  knows  well  that  I 
am  imprisoned ;  and  as  he  has  done  it  himself,  and  has 
doubtless  his  own  motives  for  it,  he  would  only  deceive 
me  if  I  trusted  him  fully  with  the  facts.  So  far  as  I  can 
see,  my  only  plan  will  be  to  keep  my  knowledge  and  my 
fears  to  myself,  and  my  eyes  open.  I  am,  I  know,  either 
being  deceived,  like  a  baby,  by  my  own  fears,  or  else  I  am 
in  desperate  straits;  and  if  the  latter  be  so,  I  need,  and 
shall  need,  all  my  brains  to  get  through. 

I  had  hardly  come  to  this  conclusion  when  I  heard  the 
great  door  below  shut,  and  knew  that  the  Count  had  re- 
turned. He  did  not  come  at  once  to  the  library,  so  I  went 
cautiously  to  my  own  room  and  found  him  making  the  bed. 
This  was  odd,  but  only  confirmed  what  I  had  all  along 
thought — that  there  were  no  servants  in  the  house.  When 
later  I  saw  him  through  the  chink  of  the  hinges  of  the  door 
laying  the  table  in  the  dining-room,  I  was  assured  of  it; 
for  if  he  does  himself  all  these  menial  offices,  surely  it  is 
proof  that  there  is  no  one  else  to  do  them.  This  gave  me 



a  fright,  for  if  there  is  no  one  else  in  the  castle,  it  must 
have  been  the  Count  himself  who  was  the  driver  of  the 
coach  that  brought  me  here.  This  is  a  terrible  thought ;  for 
if  so,  what  does  it  mean  that  he  could  control  the  wolves, 
as  he  did,  by  only  holding- up  his  hand  in  silence.  How  was 
it  that  all  the  people  at  Bistritz  and  on  the  coach  had  some 
terrible  fear  for  me  ?  What  meant  the  giving  of  the  crucifix, 
of  the  garlic,  of  the  wild  rose,  of  the  mountain  ash  ?  Bless 
that  good,  good  woman  who  hung  the  crucifix  round  my 
neck !  for  it  is  a  comfort  and  a  strength  to  me  whenever  I 
touch  it.  It  is  odd  that  a  thing  which  I  have  been  taught  to 
regard  with  disfavour  and  as  idolatrous  should  in  a  time  of 
loneliness  and  trouble  be  of  help.  Is  it  that  there  is  some- 
thing in  the  essence  of  the  thing  itself,  or  that  it  is  a  med- 
ium, a  tangible  help,  in  conveying  memories  of  sympathy 
and  comfort?  Some  time,  if  it  may  be,  I  must  examine  this 
matter  and  try  to  make  up  my  mind  about  it.  In  the  mean- 
time I  must  find  out  all  I  can  about  Count  Dracula,  as  it 
may  help  me  to  understand.  To-night  he  may  talk  of  him- 
self, if  I  turn  the  conversation  that  way.  I  must  be  very 
careful,  however,  not  to  awake  his  suspicion. 

Midnight. — I  have  had  a  long  talk  with  the  Count.  I 
asked  him  a  few  questions  on  Transylvania  history,  and  he 
warmed  up  to  the  subject  wonderfully.  In  his  speaking  of 
things  and  people,  and  especially  of  battles,  he  spoke  as  if 
he  had  been  present  at  them  all.  This  he  afterwards  ex- 
plained by  saying  that  to  a  boyar  the  pride  of  his  house  and 
name  is  his  own  pride,  that  their  glory  is  his  glory,  that 
their  fate  is  his  fate.  Whenever  he  spoke  of  his  house  he 
always  said,  '*we,"  and  spoke  almost  in  the  plural,  Hke  a 
king  speaking.  I  wish  I  could  put  down  all  he  said  exactly 
as  he  said  it,  for  to  me  it  was  most  fascinating.  It  seemed 
to  have  in  it  a  whole  history  of  the  country.  He  grew  ex- 
cited as  he  spoke,  and  walked  about  the  room  pulling  his 
great  white  moustache  and  grasping  anything  on  which  he 
laid  his  hands  as  though  he  would  crush  it  by  main 
strength.  One  thing  he  said  which  I  shall  put  down  as 
nearly  as  I  can;  for  it  tells  in  its  way  the  story  of  his 
race : — 

j2  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

"We  Szekelys  have  a  right  to  be  proud,  for  in  our  veins 
flows  the  blood  of  many  brave  races  who  fought  as  the  Hon 
fights,  for  lordship.  Here,  in  the  whirlpool  of  European 
races,  the  Ugric  tribe  bore  down  from  Iceland  the  fighting 
spirit  which  Thor  and  Wodin  gave  them,  which  their  Ber- 
serkers displayed  to  such  fell  intent  on  the  seaboards  of 
Europe,  ay,  and  of  Asia  and  Africa  too,  till  the  peoples 
thought  that  the  were  wolves  themselves  had  come.  Here, 
too,  when  they  came,  they  found  the  Huns,  whose  warlike 
fury  had  swept  the  earth  like  a  living  flame,  till  the  dying 
peoples  held  that  in  their  veins  ran  the  blood  of  those  old 
witches,  who,  expelled  from  Scythia  had  mated  with  the 
devils  in  the  desert.  Fools,  fools !  What  devil  or  what 
witch  was  ever  so  great  as  Attila,  whose  blood  is  in  these 
veins?"  He  held  up  his  arms.  "Is  it  a  wonder  that  we  were 
a  conquering  race ;  that  we  were  proud ;  that  when  the 
Magyar,  the  Lombard,  the  Avar,  the  Bulgar,  or  the  Turk 
poured  his  thousands  on  our  frontiers,  we  drove  them 
back  ?  Is  it  strange  that  when  Arpad  and  his  legions  swept 
through  the  Hungarian  fatherland  he  found  us  here  when 
he  reached  the  frontier ;  that  the  Honf oglalas  was  com- 
pleted there?  And  when  the  Hungarian  flood  swept  east- 
ward, the  Szekelys  were  claimed  as  kindred  by  the  vic- 
torious Mag}'ars,  and  to  us  for  centuries  was  trusted  the 
guarding  of  the  frontier  of  Turkey-land ;  ay,  and*  more 
than  that,  endless  duty  of  the  frontier  guard,  for,  as  the 
Turks  say,  'water  sleeps,  and  enemy  is  sleepless.'  Who 
more  gladly  than  we  throughout  the  Four  Nations  received 
the  'bloody  sword,'  or  at  its  warlike  call  flocked  quicker  to 
the  standard  of  the  King?  When  was  redeemed  that  great 
shame  of  my  nation,  the  shame  of  Cassova,  when  the  flags 
of  the  Wallach  and  the  Mag>'ar  went  down  beneath  the 
Crescent?  Who  was  it  but  one  of  my  own  race  w^ho  as 
Voivode  crossed  the  Danube  and  beat  the  Turk  on  his  own 
ground  ?  This  was  a  Dracula  indeed !  Woe  was  it  that  his 
own  unworthy  brother,  when  he  had  fallen,  sold  his  peo- 
ple to  the  Turk  and  brought  the  shame  of  slavery  on  them ! 
Was  it  not  this  Dracula,  indeed,  w^ho  inspired  that  other 
of  his  race  who  in  a  later  age  again  and  again  brought  his 
forces  over  the  great  river  into  Turkey-land ;  who,  when 


he  was  beaten  back,  came  again,  and  again,  and  again, 
though  he  had  to  come  alone  from  the  bloody  field  where 
his  troops  were  being  slaughtered,  since  he  knew  that  he 
alone  could  ultimately  triumph !  They  said  that  he  thought 
only  of  himself.  Bah!  what  good  are  peasants  without  a 
leader?  Where  ends  the  war  without  a  brain  and  heart  to 
conduct  it?  Again,  when,  after  the  battle  of  Mohacs,  we 
threw  off  the  Hungarian  yoke,  we  of  the  Dracula  blood 
were  amongst  their  leaders,  for  our  spirit  would  not  brook 
that  we  were  not  free.  Ah,  young  sir,  the  Szekelys — and 
the  Dracula  as  their  heart's  blood,  their  brains,  and  their 
swords — can  boast  a  record  that  mushroom  growths  like 
the  Hapsburgs  and  the  Romanoffs  can  never  reach.  The 
warlike  days  are  over.  Blood  is  too  precious  a  thing  in  these 
days  of  dishonourable  peace ;  and  the  glories  of  the  great 
races  are  as  a  tale  that  is  told." 

It  was  by  this  time  close  on  morning,  and  we  went  to 
bed.  (Mem.,  this  diary  seems  horribly  like  the  beginning 
of  the  "Arabian  Nights,"  for  everything  has  to  break  off 
at  cockcrow — or  like  the  ghost  of  Hamlet's  father.) 

12  May. — Let  me  begin  with  facts — ^bare,  meagre  facts, 
verified  by  books  and  figures,  and  of  which  there  can  be 
no  doubt.  I  must  not  confuse  them  with  experiences  which 
will  have  to  rest  on  my  own  observation,  or  my  memory  of 
them.  Last  evening  when  the  Count  came  from  his  room 
he  began  by  asking  me  questions  on  legal  matters  and  on 
the  doing  of  certain  kinds  of  business.  I  had  spent  the  day 
wearily  over  books,  and,  simply  to  keep  my  mind  occu- 
pied, went  over  some  of  the  matters  I  had  been  examined 
in  at  Lincoln's  Inn.  There  was  a  certain  method  in  the 
Count's  inquiries,  so  I  shall  try  to  put  them  down  in 
sequence ;  the  knowledge  may  somehow  or  some  time  be 
useful  to  me. 

First,  he  asked  if  a  man  in  England  might  have  two 
solicitors  or  more.  I  told  him  he  might  have  a  dozen  if  he 
wished,  but  that  it  would  not  be  wise  to  have  more  than 
one  solicitor  engaged  in  one  transaction,  as  only  one  could 
act  at  a  time,  and  that  to  change  would  be  certain  to  mili- 
tate against  his  interest.  He  seemed  thoroughly  to  under- 


Stand,  and  went  on  to  ask  if  there  would  be  any  practical 
difficulty  in  having  one  man  to  attend,  say,  to  banking, 
and  another  to  look  after  shipping,  in  case  local  help  were 
needed  in  a  place  far  from  the  home  of  the  banking  solici- 
tor. I  asked  him  to  explain  more  fully,  so  that  I  might  not 
by  any  chance  mislead  him,  so  he  said : — 

**I  shall  illustrate.  Your  friend  and  mine,  Mr.  Peter 
Hawkins,  from  under  the  shadow  of  your  beautiful  cathe- 
dral at  Exeter,  which  is  far  from  London,  buys  for  me 
through  your  good  self  my  place  at  London.  Good !  Now 
here  let  me  say  frankly,  lest  you  should  think  it  strange 
that  I  have  sought  the  services  of  one  so  far  off  from  Lon- 
don instead  of  some  one  resident  there,  that  my  motive  was 
that  no  local  interest  might  be  served  save  my  wish  only ; 
and  as  one  of  London  residence  might,  perhaps,  have  some 
purpose  of  himself  or  friend  to  serve,  I  went  thus  afield 
to  seek  my  agent,  whose  labours  should  be  only  to  my 
interest.  Now,  suppose  I,  who  have  much  of  affairs,  wish 
to  ship  goods,  say,  to  Newcastle,  or  Durham,  or  Harwich, 
or  Dover,  might  it  not  be  that  it  could  with  more  ease  be 
done  by  consigning  to  one  in  these  ports  ?"  I  answered  that 
certainly  it  would  be  most  easy,  but  that  we  solicitors  had 
a  system  of  agency  one  for  the  other,  so  that  local  work 
could  be  done  locally  on  instruction  from  any  solicitor,  so 
that  the  client,  simply  placing  himself  in  the  hands  of  one 
man,  could  have  his  wishes  carried  out  by  him  without 
further  trouble. 

''But,"  said  he,  "I  could  be  at  liberty  to  direct  myself. 
Is  it  not  so?" 

"Of  course,"  I  replied;  and  "such  is  often  done  by  men 
of  business,  who  do  not  like  the  whole  of  their  affairs  to 
be  known  by  any  one  person." 

"Good !"  he  said,  and  then  went  on  to  ask  about  the 
means  of  making  consignments  and  the  forms  to  be  gone 
through,  and  of  all  sorts  of  difficulties  which  might  arise, 
but  by  forethought  could  be  guarded  against.  I  explained 
all  these  things  to  him  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  and  he  cer- 
tainly left  me  under  the  impression  that  he  would  have 
made  a  wonderful  solicitor,  for  there  was  nothing  that  he 
did  not  think  of  or  foresee.  For  a  man  who  was  never  in 


the  country,  and  who  did  not  evidently  do  much  in  the  way 
of  business,  his  knowledge  and  acumen  were  wonderful. 
When  he  had  satisfied  himself  on  these  points  of  which  he 
had  spoken,  and  I  had  verified  all  as  well  as  I  could  by  the 
books  available,  he  suddenly  stood  up  and  said : — 

"Have  you  v/ritten  since  your  first  letter  to  our  friend 
Mr.  Peter  Hawkins,  or  to  any  other?"  It  was  with  some 
bitterness  in  my  heart  that  I  answered  that  I  had  not,  that 
as  yet  I  had  not  seen  any  opportunity  of  sending  letters  to 

"Then  write  now,  my  young  friend,"  he  said,  laying  a 
heavy  hand  on  my  shoulder:  "write  to  our  friend  and  to 
any  other ;  and  say,  if  it  will  please  you,  that  you  shall  stay 
with  me  until  a  month  from  now." 

"Do  you  wish  me  to  stay  so  long?"  I  asked,  for  my 
heart  grew  cold  at  the  thought. 

"I  desire  it  much ;  nay,  I  will  take  no  refusal.  When 
your  master,  employer,  what  you  will,  engaged  that  some- 
one should  come  on  his  behalf,  it  was  understood  that  my 
needs  only  were  to  be  consulted.  I  have  not  stinted.  Is  it 
not  so  ?" 

What  could  I  do  but  bow  acceptance  ?  It  was  Mr.  Haw- 
kins's interest,  not  mine,  and  I  had  to  think  of  him,  not 
myself ;  and  besides,  while  Count  Dracula  was  speaking, 
there  was  that  in  his  eyes  and  in  his  bearing  which  made 
me  remember  that  I  was  a  prisoner,  and  that  if  I  wished  it 
I  could  have  no  choice.  The  Count  saw  his  victory  in  my 
bow,  and  his  mastery  in  the  trouble  of  my  face,  for  he 
began  at  once  to  use  them,  but  in  his  own  smooth,  resist- 
less way : — 

"I  pray  you,  my  good  young  friend,  that  you  will  not 
discourse  of  things  other  than  business  in  your  letters.  It 
will  doubtless  please  your  friends  to  know  that  you  are 
well,  and  that  you  look  forward  to  getting  home  to  them. 
Is  it  not  so?"  As  he  spoke  he  handed  me  three  sheets  of 
note-paper  and  three  envelopes.  They  were  all  of  the 
thinnest  foreign  post,  and  looking  at  them,  then  at  him. 
and  noticing  his  quiet  smile,  with  the  sharp,  canine  teeth 
lying  over  the  red  underlip,  I  understood  as  well  as  if  he 
had  spoken  that  I  §hould  be  careful  what  I  wrote,  for  he 

36  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

would  be  able  to  read  it.  So  I  determined  to  write  only 
formal  notes  now,  but  to  write  fully  to  Mr.  Hawkins  in 
secret,  and  also  to  Mina,  for  to  her  I  could  write  in  short- 
hand, which  would  puzzle  the  Count,  if  he  did  see  it.  When 
I  had  written  my  two  letters  I  sat  quiet,  reading  a  book 
whilst  the  Count  wrote  several  notes,  referring  as  he  wrote 
them  to  some  books  on  his  table.  Then  he  took  up  my  two 
and  placed  them  with  his  own,  and  put  by  his  writing  ma- 
terials, after  which,  the  instant  the  door  had  closed  behind 
him,  I  leaned  over  and  looked  at  the  letters,  which  were 
face  down  on  the  table.  I  felt  no  compunction  in  doing 
so,  for  under  the  circumstances  I  felt  that  I  should  protect 
myself  in  every  way  I  could. 

One  of  the  letters  was  directed  to  Samuel  F.  Billington. 
No.  7,  The  Crescent,  Whitby,  another  to  Herr  Leutner, 
Varna;  the  third  was  to  Coutts  &  Co.,  London,  and  the 
fourth  to  Herren  Klopstock  &  Billreuth,  bankers,  Buda- 
Pesth.  The  second  and  fourth  were  unsealed.  I  was  just 
about  to  look  at  them  when  I  saw  the  door-handle  move, 
I  sank  back  in  my  seat,  having  just  had  time  to  replace  the 
letters  as  they  had  been  and  to  resume  my  book  before 
the  Count,  holding  still  another  letter  in  his  hand,  entered 
♦:he  room.  He  took  up  the  letters  on  the  table  and  stamped 
them  carefully,  and  then  turning  to  me,  said  : — 

*T  trust  you  will  forgive  me,  but  I  have  much  work  to 
do  in  private  this  evening.  You  will,  I  hope,  find  all  things 
as  you  wish."  At  the  door  he  turned,  and  after  a  moment's 
pause  said : — 

"Let  me  advise  you,  my  dear  young  friend — nay,  let  me 
warn  you  with  all  seriousness,  that  should  you  leave  these 
rooms  you  will  not  by  any  chance  go  to  sleep  in  any  other 
part  of  the  castle.  It  is  old,  and  has  many  memories,  and 
there  are  bad  dreams  for  those  who  sleep  unwisely.  Be 
warned !  Should  sleep  now  or  ever  overcome  you,  or  be 
like  to  do,  then  haste  to  your  own  chamber  or  to  these 
rooms,  for  your  rest  will  then  be  safe.  But  if  you  be  not 
careful  in  this  respect,  then" — He  finished  his  speech  in  a 
gruesome  way,  for  he  motioned  with  his  hands  as  if  he 
were  washing  them.  I  quite  understood ;  my  only  doubt 
was  as  to  whether  any  dream  could  be  more  terrible  than 

-JONATHAN    HARKER'S    JOURNAL         3^ 

the  unnatural,  horrible  net  of  gloom  and  mystery  which 
seemed  closing  around  me. 

Later. — I  endorse  the  last  words  written,  but  this  time 
there  is  no  doubt  in  question.  I  shall  not  fear  to  sleep  in 
any  place  where  he  is  not.  I  have  placed  the  crucifix  over 
the  head  of  my  bed — I  imagine  that  my  rest  is  thus  freer 
from  dreams ;  and  there  it  shall  remain. 

When  he  left  me  I  went  to  my  room.  After  a  little  while, 
not  hearing  any  sound,  I  came  out  and  went  up  the  stone 
stair  to  where  I  could  look  out  towards  the  South.  There 
was  some  sense  of  freedom  in  the  vast  expanse,  inacces- 
sible" though  it  was  to  me,  as  compared  with  the  narrow 
darkness  of  the  courtyard.  Looking  out  of  this,  I  felt  that 
I  was  indeed  in  prison,  and  I  seemed  to  want  a  breath  of 
fresh  air,  though  it  were  of  the  night.  I  am  beginning  to 
feel  this  nocturnal  existence  tell  on  me.  It  is  destroying  my 
nerve.  I  start  at  my  own  shadow,  and  am  full  of  all  sorts 
of  horrible  imaginings.  God  knows  that  there  is  ground  for 
my  terrible  fear  in  this  accursed  place !  I  looked  out  over 
the  beautiful  expanse,  bathed  in  soft  yellow  moonlight  till 
it  was  almost  as  light  as  day.  In  the  soft  light  the  distant 
hills  became  melted,  and  the  shadows  in  the  valleys  and 
gorges  of  velvety  blackness.  The  mere  beauty  seemed  to 
cheer  me ;  there  was  peace  and  comfort  in  every  breath  I 
drew.  As  I  leaned  from  the  window  my  eye  was  caught  by 
something  moving  a  storey  below  me,  and  somewhat  to 
my  left,  where  I  imagined,  from  the  order  of  the  rooms, 
that  the  windows  of  the  Count's  own  room  would  look 
out.  The  window  at  which  I  stood  was  tall  and  deep,  stone- 
mullioned,  and  though  weatherworn,  was  still  complete; 
but  it  was  evidently  many  a  day  since  the  case  had  been 
there.  I  drew  back  behind  the  stonework,  and  looked  care- 
fully out. 

What  I  saw  was  the  Count's  head  coming  out  from  the 
window.  I  did  not  see  the  face,  but  I  knew  the  man  by  the 
neck  and  the  movement  of  his  back  and  arms.  In  any  case 
I  could  not  mistake  the  hands  which  I  had  had  so  many 
opportunities  of  studying.  I  was  at  first  interested  and 
somewhat  amused,  for  it  is  wonderful  how  small  a  matter 


will  interest  and  amuse  a  man  when  he  is  a  prisoner.  But 
my  very  feelings  changed  to  repulsion  and  terror  when  I 
saw  the  whole  man  slowly  emerge  from  the  window  and 
begin  to  crawl  down  the  castle  wall  over  that  dreadful 
abyss,  face  down  with  his  cloak  spreading  out  around  him 
like  great  wings.  At  first  I  could  not  believe  my  eyes.  I 
thought  it  was  some  trick  of  the  moonlight,  some  weird 
effect  of  shadow ;  but  I  kept  looking,  and  it  could  be  no 
delusion.  I  saw  the  fingers  and  toes  grasp  the  corners  of 
the  stones,  worn  clear  of  the  mortar  by  the  stress  of  years, 
and  by  thus  using  every  projection  and  inequality  move 
downwards  with  considerable  speed,  just  as  a  lizard  moves 
along  a  wall. 

What  manner  of  man  is  this,  or  what  manner  of  creature 
is  it  in  the  semblance  of  man  ?  I  feel  the  dread  of  this  hor- 
rible place  overpowering  me ;  I  am  in  fear — in  awful  fear 
— and  there  is  no  escape  for  me ;  I  am  encompassed  about 
with  terrors  that  I  dare  not  think  of.  .  .  . 

75  May. — Once  more  have  I  seen  the  Count  go  out  in  his 
lizard  fashion.  He  moved  downwards  in  a  sidelong  way, 
some  hundred  feet  down,  and  a  good  deal  to  the  left.  He 
vanished  into  some  hole  or  window.  When  his  head  had 
disappeared,  I  leaned  out  to  try  and  see  more,  but  without 
avail — ^the  distance  was  too  great  to  allow  a  proper  angle 
of  sight.  I  knew  he  had  left  the  castle  now,  and  thought  to 
use  the  opportunity  to  explore  more  than  I  had  dared  to 
do  as  yet.  I  went  back  to  the  room,  and  taking  a  lamp, 
tried  all  the  doors.  They  were  all  locked,  as  I  had  expected, 
and  the  locks  were  comparatively  new ;  but  I  went  down 
the  stone  stairs  to  the  hall  where  I  had  entered  originally. 
I  found  I  could  pull  back  the  bolts  easily  enough  and  un- 
hook the  great  chains ;  but  the  door  was  locked,  and  the 
key  was  gone !  That  key  must  be  in  the  Count's  room ;  I 
must  watch  should  his  door  be  unlocked,  so  that  I  may 
get  it  and  escape.  I  went  on  to  make  a  thorough  examina- 
tion of  the  various  stairs  and  passages,  and  to  try  the  doors 
that  opened  from  them.  One  or  two  small  rooms  near  the 
hall  were  open,  but  there  was  nothing  to  see  in  them  ex- 
cept old   furniture,  dusty  with  age  and  moth-eaten.   At 


last,  however,  I  found  one  door  at  the  top  of  the  stairway 
which,  though  it  seemed  to  be  locked,  gave  a  little  under 
pressure.  I  tried  it  harder,  and  found  that  it  was  not  really- 
locked,  but  that  the  resistance  came  from  the  fact  that  the 
hinges  had  fallen  somewhat,  and  the  heavy  door  rested  on 
the  floor.  Here  was  an  opportunity  which  I  might  not  have 
again,  so  I  exerted  myself,  and  with  many  efforts  forced 
it  back  so  that  I  could  enter.  I  was  now  in  a  wing  of  the 
castle  further  to  the  right  than  the  rooms  I  knew  and  a 
storey  lower  down.  From  the  windows  I  could  see  that  the 
suite  of  rooms  lay  along  to  the  south  of  the  castle,  the 
windows  of  the  end  room  looking  out  both  west  and  south. 
On  the  latter  side,  as  well  as  to  the  former,  there  was  a 
great  precipice.  The  castle  was  built  on  the  corner  of  a 
great  rock,  so  that  on  three  sides  it  was  quite  impregnable, 
and  great  windows  were  placed  here  where  sling,  or  bow, 
or  culverin  could  not  reach,  and  consequently  light  and 
comfort,  impossible  to  a  position  which  had  to  be  guarded, 
were  secured.  To  the  west  was  a  great  valley,  and  then, 
rising  far  away,  great  jagged  mountain  fastnesses,  rising 
peak  on  peak,  the  sheer  rock  studded  with  mountain  ash 
and  thorn,  whose  roots  clung  in  cracks  and  crevices  and 
crannies  of  the  stone.  This  was  evidently  the  portion  of 
the  castle  occupied  by  the  ladies  in  bygone  days,  for  the 
furniture  had  more  air  of  comfort  than  any  I  had  seen. 
The  windows  were  curtainless,  and  the  yellow  moonlight, 
flooding  in  through  the  diamond  panes,  enabled  one  to  see 
even  colours,  whilst  it  softened  the  wealth  of  dust  which 
lay  over  all  and  disguised  in  some  measure  the  ravages  of 
time  and  the  moth.  My  lamp  seemed  to  be  of  little  effect 
in  the  brilliant  moonlight,  but  I  was  glad  to  have  it  with 
me,  for  there  was  a  dread  loneliness  in  the  place  which 
chilled  my  heart  and  made  my  nerves  tremble.  Still,  it  was 
better  than  living  alone  in  the  rooms  which  I  had  come  to 
hate  from  the  presence  of  the  Count,  and  after  trying  a 
little  to  school  my  nerves,  I  found  a  soft  quietude  come 
over  me.  Here  I  am,  sitting  at  a  little  cak  table  where  in 
old  times  possibly  some  fair  lady  sat  to  pen,  with  much 
thought  and  many  blushes,  her  ill-spelt  love-letter,   and 
writing  in  my  diary  in  short  hand  all  that  has  happened 


since  I  closed  it  last.  It  is  nineteenth  century  up-to-date 
with  a  vengeance.  And  yet,  unless  my  senses  deceive  me, 
the  old  centuries  had,  and  have,  powers  of  their  own  which 
mere  ''modernity"  cannot  kill. 

Later:  the  Morning  of  i6  May. — God  preserve  my  san- 
ity, for  to  this  I  am  reduced.  Safety  and  the  assurance  of 
safety  are  things  of  the  past.  Whilst  I  live  on  here  there  is 
but  one  thing  to  hope  for,  that  I  may  not  go  mad,  if,  in- 
deed, I  be  not  mad  already.  If  I  be  sane,  then  surely  it  is 
maddening  to  think  that  of  all  the  foul  things  that  lurk  in 
this  hateful  place  the  Count  is  the  least  dreadful  to  me; 
that  to  him  alone  I  can  look  for  safety,  even  though  this 
be  only  whilst  I  can  serve  his  purpose.  Great  God !  merci- 
ful God !  Let  me  be  calm,  for  out  of  that  way  lies  madness 
mdeed.  I  begin  to  get  new  lights  on  certain  things  which 
have  puzzled  me.  Up  to  now  I  never  quite  knew  what 
Shakespeare  meant  when  he  made  Hamlet  say: — 

"My  tablets  !  quick,  my  tablets  ! 
'Tis  meet  that  I  put  it  down,"  etc., 

for  now,  feeling  as  though  my  own  brain  were  unhinged 
or  as  if  the  shock  had  come  which  must  end  in  its  undoing, 
I  turn  to  my  diary  for  repose.  The  habit  of  entering  ac- 
curately must  help  to  soothe  me. 

The  Count's  mysterious  warning  frightened  me  at  the 
time ;  it  frightens  me  more  now  when  I  think  of  it,  for  in 
future  he  has  a  fearful  hold  upon  me.  I  shall  fear  to  doubt 
what  he  may  say ! 

When  I  had  written  in  my  diary  and  had  fortunately 
replaced  the  book  and  pen  in  my  pocket  I  felt  sleepy.  The 
Count's  warning  came  into  my  mind,  but  I  took  a  pleasure 
in  disobeying  it.  The  sense  of  sleep  was  upon  me,  and  with 
*  it  the  obstinacy  which  sleep  brings  as  outrider.  The  soft 
moonlight  soothed,  and  the  wide  expanse  without  gave  a 
sense  of  freedom  which  refreshed  me.  I  determined  not  to 
return  to-night  to  the  gloom-haunted  rooms,  but  to  sleep 
here,  where,  of  old,  ladies  had  sat  and  sung  and  lived  sweet 
lives  whilst  their  gentle  breasts  were  sad  for  their  menfolk 
away  in  the  midst  of  remorseless  wars.  I  drew  a  great 


couch  out  of  its  place  near  the  corner,  so  that  as  I  lay,  I 
could  look  at  the  lovely  view  to  east  and  south,  and  un- 
thinking of  and  uncaring  for  the  dust,  composed  myself 
for  sleep.  I  suppose  I  must  have  fallen  asleep ;  I  hope  so, 
but  I  fear,  for  all  that  followed  was  startlingly  real — so 
real  that  now  sitting, here  in  the  broad,  full  sunlight  of  the 
morning,  I  cannot  in  the  least  believe  that  it  was  all  sleep. 

I  was  not  alone.  The  room  was  the  same,  unchanged  in 
any  way  since  I  came  into  it ;  I  could  see  along  the  floor, 
in  the  brilliant  moonlight,  my  own  footsteps  marked  where 
I  had  disturbed  the  long  accumulation  of  dust.  In  the  moon- 
light opposite  me  were  three  young  women,  ladies  by  theii 
dress  and  manner.  I  thought  at  the  time  that  I  must  be 
dreaming  when  I  saw  them,  for,  though  the  moonlight  was 
behind  them,  they  threw  no  shadow  on  the  floor.  They 
came  close  to  me,  and  looked  at  me  for  some  time,  and 
then  whispered  together.  Two  were  dark,  and  had  high 
aquiline  noses,  like  the  Count,  and  great  dark,  piercing 
eyes,  that  seemed  to  be  almost  red  when  contrasted  with 
the  pale  yellow  moon.  The  other  was  fair,  as  fair  as  can 
be,  with  great  wavy  masses  of  golden  hair  and  eyes  like 
pale  sapphires.  I  seemed  somehow  to  know  her  face,  and 
to  know  it  in  connection  with  some  dreamy  fear,  but  I 
could  not  recollect  at  the  moment  how  or  where.  All  three 
had  brilliant  white  teeth  that  shone  like  pearls  against  the 
ruby  of  their  voluptuous  lips.  There  was  something  about 
them  that  made  me  uneasy,  some  longing  and  at  the  same 
time  some  deadly  fear.  I  felt  in  my  heart  a  wicked,  burning 
desire  that  they  would  kiss  me  with  those  red  lips.  It  is 
not  good  to  note  this  down ;  lest  some  day  it  should  meet 
Mina's  eyes  and  cause  her  pain ;  but  it  is  the  truth.  They 
whispered  together,  and  then  they  all  three  laughed — 
such  a  silvery,  musical  laugh,  but  as  hard  as  though  the 
sound  never  could  have  come  through  the  softness  of 
human  lips.  It  was  like  the  intolerable,  tingling  sweetness 
of  water-glasses  when  played  on  by  a  cunning  hand.  The 
fair  girl  shook  her  head  coquettishly,  and  the  other  two 
urged  her  on.  One  said : — 

"Go  on !  You  are  first,  and  we  shall  follow ;  yours  is  the 
right  to  begin."  The  other  added  : — 


'*He  is  young  and  strong;  there  are  kisses  for  us  all."  I 
lay  quiet,  looking  out  under  my  eyelashes  in  an  agony  of 
delightful  anticipation.  The  fair  girl  advanced  and  bent 
over  me  till  I  could  feel  the  movement  of  her  breath  upon 
me.  Sweet  it  was  in  one  sense,  honey-sweet,  and  sent  the 
same  tingling  through  the  nerves  as  her  voice,  but  with  a 
bitter  underlying  the  sweet,  a  bitter  offensiveness,  as  one 
smells  in'blood. 

I  was  afraid  to  raise  my  eyelids,  but  looked  out  and 
saw  perfectly  under  the  lashes.  The  girl  went  on  her  knees, 
and  bent  over  me,  simply  gloating.  There  was  a  deliberate 
voluptuousness  which  was  both  thrilling  and  repulsive,  and 
as  she  arched  her  neck  she  actually  licked  her  lips  like  an 
animal,  till  I  could  see  in  the  moonlight  the  moisture  shin- 
ing on  the  scarlet  lips  and  on  the  red  tongue  as  it  lapped 
the  white  sharp  teeth.  Lower  and  lower  went  her  head 
as  the  lips  went  below  the  range  of  my  mouth  and  chin 
and  seemed  about  to  fasten  on  my  throat.  Then  she  paused, 
and  I  could  hear  the  churning  sound  of  her  tongue  as  it 
licked  her  teeth  and  lips,  and  could  feel  the  hot  breath  on 
my  neck.  Then  the  skin  of  my  throat  began  to  tingle  as 
one's  flesh  does  when  the  hand  that  is  to  tickle  it  ap- 
proaches nearer — nearer.  I  could  feel  the  soft,  shivering 
touch  of  the  lips  on  the  super-sensitive  skin  of  my  throat, 
and  the  hard  dents  of  two  sharp  teeth,  just  touching  and 
pausing  there.  I  closed  my  eyes  in  a  languorous  ecstasy  and 
waited — waited  with  beating  heart. 

But  at  that  instant,  another  sensation  swept  through  me 
as  quick  as  lightning.  I  was  conscious  of  the  presence  of 
the  Count,  and  of  his  being  as  if  lapped  in  a  storm  of 
fury.  As  my  eyes  opened  involuntarily  I  saw  his  strong 
hand  grasp  the  slender  neck  of  the  fair  woman  and  with 
giant's  power  draw  it  back,  the  blue  eyes  transformed  with 
fury,  the  white  teeth  champing  wnth  rage,  and  the  fair 
cheeks  blazing  with  passion.  But  the  Count !  Never  did 
I  imagine  such  wrath  and  fury,  even  to  the  demons  of  the 
pit.  His  eyes  were  positively  blazing.  The  red  light  in  them 
was  lurid,  as  if  the  flames  of  hell-fire  blazed  behind  them. 
His  face  was  deathly  pale,  and  the  lines  of  it  were  hard 
like  drawn  wires ;  the  thick  eyebrows  that  met  over  the 

JONATHAN    HARKER'S    JOURNAJ.         43 

nose  now  seemed  like  a  heaving  bar  of  white-hot  metal. 
With  a  fierce  sweep  of  his  arm,  he  hurled  the  woman  from 
him,  and  then  motioned  to  the  others,  as  though  he  were 
beating  them  back ;  it  was  the  same  imperious  gesture  that 
I  had  seen  used  to  the  wolves.  In  a  voice  which,  though 
low  and  almost  in  a  whisper  seemed  to  cut  through  the  air 
and  then  ring  round  the  room  he  said : — 

"How  dare  you  touch  him,  any  of  you?  How  dare  you 
cast  eyes  on  him  when  I  had  forbidden  it  ?  Back,  I  tell  you 
all !  This  man  belongs  to  me !  Beware  how  you  meddle 
with  him,  or  you'll  have  to  deal  with  me."  The  fair  gir^^ 
with  a  laugh  of  ribald  coquetry,  turned  to  answer  him  :--- 

"You  yourself  never  loved ;  you  never  love !"  On  this 
the  other  women  joined,  and  such  a  mirthless,  hard,  soul- 
less laughter  rang  through  the  room  that  it  almost  made 
me  faint  to  hear ;  it  seemed  like  the  pleasure  of  fiends. 
Then  the  Count  turned,  after  looking  at  my  face  atten- 
tively and  said  in  a  soft  whisper : — 

"Yes,  I  too  can  love ;  you  yourselves  can  tell  it  from  the 
past.  Is  it  not  so?  Well,  now  I  promise  you  that  when  I 
am  done  with  him  you  shall  kiss  him  at  your  will.  Now  go ! 
go !  I  must  awaken  him,  for  there  is  work  to  be  done." 

"Are  we  to  have  nothing  to-night?"  said  one  of  them, 
with  a  low  laugh,  as  she  pointed  to  the  bag  which  he  had 
thrown  upon  the  floor,  and  which  moved  as  though  there 
were  some  living  thing  within  it.  For  answer  he  nodded  his 
head.  One  of  the  women  jumped  forward  and  opened  it. 
If  my  ears  did  not  deceive  me  there  was  a  gasp  and  a  low 
wail,  as  of  a  half-smothered  child.  The  women  closed 
round,  whilst  I  was  aghast  with  horror;  but  as  I  looked 
they  disappeared,  and  with  them  the  dreadful  bag.  There 
was  no  door  near  them,  and  they  could  not  have  passed 
me  without  my  noticing.  They  simply  seemed  to  fade  into 
the  rays  of  the  moonlight  and  pass  out  through  the  win- 
dow, for  I  could  see  outside  the  dim,  shadowy  forms  for 
a  moment  before  they  entirely  faded  away. 

Then  the  horror  overcame  me,  and  I  sank  down  uncon- 

JONATHAN  harker's  JOURNAL — Continued 

I  AWOKE  in  my  own  bed.  If  it  be  that  I  had  not  dreamt, 
the  Count  must  have  carried  me  here.  I  tried  to  satisfy 
myself  on  the  subject,  but  could  not  arrive  at  any  unques- 
tionable result.  To  be  sure,  there  were  certain  small  evi- 
dences, such  as  that  my  clothes  were  folded  and  laid  by  in 
a  manner  w^hich  was  not  my  habit.  i\Iy  watch  was  still  un- 
wound, and  I  am  rigorously  accustomed  to  wind  it  the  last 
thing  before  going  to  bed,  and  many  such  details.  But  these 
things  are  no  proof,  for  they  may  have  been  evidences  that 
my  mind  was  not  as  usual,  and,  from  some  cause  or  an- 
other, I  had  certainly  been  much  upset.  I  must  watch  for 
proof.  Of  one  thing  I  am  glad :  if  it  was  that  the  Count 
carried  me  here  and  undressed  me,  he  must  have  been 
hurried  in  his  task,  for  my  pockets  are  intact.  I  am  sure 
this  diary  would  have  been  a  mystery  to  him  which  he 
would  not  have  brooked.  He  would  have  taken  or  de- 
stro3'ed  it.  As  I  look  round  this  room,  although  it  has  been 
to  me  so  full  of  fear,  it  is  now  a  sort  of  sanctuary,  for 
nothing  can  be  more  dreadful  than  those  awful  women, 
who  were — who  are — waiting  to  suck  my  blood. 

i8  May. — I  have  been  down  to  look  at  that  room  again 
in  daylight,  for  I  must  know  the  truth.  When  I  got  to  the 
doorway  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  I  found  it  closed.  It  had 
been  so  forcibly  driven  against  the  jamb  that  part  of  the 
woodwork  was  splintered.  I  could  see  that  the  bolt  of  the 
lock  had  not  been  shot,  but  the  door  is  fastened  from  the 
inside.  I  fear  it  was  no  dream,  and  must  act  on  this  sur- 

ig  May. — I  am  surely  in  the  toils.  Last  night  the  Count 
asked  me  in  the  suavest  tones  to  write  three  letters,  one 



saying  that  my  work  here  was  nearly  done,  and  that  I 
should  start  for  home  within  a  few  days,  another  that  I 
was  starting  on  the  next  morning  from  the  time  of  the 
letter,  and  the  third  that  I  had  left  the  castle  and  arrived 
at  Bistritz.  I  would  fain  have  rebelled,  but  felt  that  in  the 
present  state  of  things  it  would  be  madness  to  quarrel 
openly  with  the  Count  whilst  I  am  so  absolutely  in  his 
power ;  and  to  refuse  would  be  to  excite  his  suspicion  and 
to  arouse  his  anger.  He  knows  that  I  know  too  much,  and 
that  I  must  not  live,  lest  I  be  dangerous  to  him ;  my  only 
chance  is  to  prolong  my  opportunities.  Something  may 
occur  which  will  give  me  a  chance  to  escape.  I  saw  in  his 
eyes  something  of  that  gathering  wrath  which  was  mani- 
fest when  he  hurled  that  fair  woman  from  him.  He  ex- 
plained to  me  that  posts  were  few  and  uncertain,  and  that 
my  writing  now  would  ensure  ease  of  mind  to  my  friends ; 
and  he  assured  me  with  so  much  impressiveness  that  he 
would  countermand  the  later  letters,  which  would  be  held 
over  at  Bistritz  until  due  time  in  case  chance  would  admit 
of  my  prolonging  my  stay,  that  to  oppose  him  would  have 
been  to  create  new  suspicion.  I  therefore  pretended  to  fall 
in  with  his  views,  and  asked  him  what  dates  I  should  put 
on  the  letters.  He  calculated  a  minute,  and  then  said : — 

"The  first  should  be  June  12,  the  second  June  19,  and 
the  third  June  29." 

I  know  now  the  span  of  my  life.  God  help  me! 

28  May. — There  is  a  chance  of  escape,  or  at  any  rate 
of  being  able  to  send  word  home.  A  band  of  Szgany  have 
come  to  the  castle,  and  are  encamped  in  the  courtyard. 
These  Szgany  are  gipsies ;  I  have  notes  of  them  in  my 
book.  They  are  peculiar  to  this  part  of  the  world,  though 
allied  to  the  ordinary  gipsies  all  the  world  over.  There  are 
thousands  of  them  in  Hungary  and  Transylvania,  who 
are  almost  outside  all  law.  They  attach  themselves  as  a  rule 
to  some  great  noble  or  hoyar,  and  call  themselves  by  his 
name.  They  are  fearless  and  without  religion,  save  super- 
stition, and  they  talk  only  their  own  varieties  of  the  Ro- 
many tongue. 

I  shall  write  some  letters  home,  and  shall  try  to  get  them 


to  have  them  posted.  I  have  already  spoken  them  through 
my  window  to  begin  acquaintanceship.  They  took  their 
hats  off  and  made  obeisance  and  many  signs,  which,  how- 
ever, I  could  not  understand  any  more  than  I  could  their 
spoken  language.  .  .  . 

I  have  written  the  letters.  Mina's  is  in  shorthand,  and  I 
simply  ask  Mr.  Hawkins  to  communicate  with  her.  To  her 
I  have  explained  my  situation,  but  without  the  horrors 
which  I  may  only  surmise.  It  would  shock  and  frighten 
her  to  death  were  I  to  expose  my  heart  to  her.  Should  the 
letters  not  carry,  then  the  Count  shall  not  yet  know  my 
secret  or  the  extent  of  my  knowledge.  .  .  . 

I  have  given  the  letters ;  I  threw  them  through  the  bars 
of  my  window  with  a  gold  piece,  and  made  what  signs  I 
could  to  have  them  posted.  The  man  who  took  them 
pressed  them  to  his  heart  and  bowed,  and  then  put  them  in 
his  cap.  I  could  do  no  more.  I  stole  back  to  the  study,  and 
began  to  read.  As  the  Count  did  not  come  in,  I  have  writ- 
ten here.  ... 

The  Count  has  come.  He  sat  down  beside  me,  and  said 
in  his  smoothest  voice  as  he  opened  two  letters : — 

"The  Szgany  has  given  me  these,  of  which,  though  I 
know  not  whence  they  come,  I  shall,  of  course,  take  care. 
See!" — ^he  must  have  looked  at  it — "one  is  from  you,  and 
to  my  friend  Peter  Hawkins;  the  other" — here  he  caught 
sight  of  the  strange  symbols  as  he  opened  the  envelope, 
and  the  dark  look  came  into  his  face,  and  his  eyes  blazed 
wickedly — "the  other  is  a  vile  thing,  an  outrage  upon 
friendship  and  hospitality !  It  is  not  signed.  Well !  so  it 
cannot  matter  to  us."  And  he  calmly  held  letter  and  enve- 
lope in  the  flame  of  the  lamp  till  they  were  consumed. 
Then  he  went  on : — 

"The  letter  to  Hawkins — that  I  shall,  of  course,  send 
on,  since  it  is  yours.  Your  letters  are  sacred  to  me.  Your 
pardon,  my  friend,  that  unknowingly  I  did  break  the  seal. 
Will  you  not  cover  it  again?"  He  held  out  the  letter  to 
me,  and  with  a  courteous  bow  handed  me  a  clean  enve- 


lope.  I  could  only  redirect  it  and  hand  it  to  him  in  silence. 
When  he  went  out  of  the  room  I  could  hear  the  key  turn 
softly.  A  minute  later  I  went  over  and  tried  it,  and  the 
door  was  locked. 

When,  an  hour  or  two  after,  the  Count  came  quietly  in- 
to the  room,  his  coming  awakened  me,  for  I  had  gone  to 
sleep  on  the  sofa.  He  was  very  courteous  and  very  cheery 
in  his  manner,  and  seeing  that  I  had  been  sleeping,  he 
said : — 

"So,  my  friend,  you  are  tired?  Get  to  bed.  There  is  the 
surest  rest.  I  may  not  have  the  pleasure  to  talk  to-night, 
since  there  are  many  labours  to  me ;  but  you  will  sleep,  I 
pray."  I  passed  to  my  room  and  went  to  bed,  and,  strange 
to  say,  slept  without  dreaming.  Despair  has  it  own  calms. 

57  May. — This  morning  when  I  woke  I  thought  I  would 
provide  myself  with  some  paper  and  envelopes  from  my 
bag  and  keep  them  in  my  pocket,  so  that  I  might  write  in 
case  I  should  get  an  opportunity,  but  again  a  surprise, 
again  a  shock! 

Every  scrap  of  paper  was  gone,  and  with  it  all  my 
notes,  my  memoranda,  relating  to  railways  and  travel,  my 
letter  of  credit,  in  fact  all  that  might  be  useful  to  me  were 
I  once  outside  the  castle.  I  sat  and  pondered  awhile,  and 
then  some  thought  occurred  to  me,  and  I  made  search  of 
my  portmanteau  and  in  the  wardrobe  where  I  had  placed 
my  clothes. 

The  suit  in  which  I  had  travelled  was  gone,  and  also  my 
overcoat  and  rug ;  I  could  find  no  trace  of  them  anywhere. 
This  looked  like  some  new  scheme  of  villainy.  .  . . 

J/  June. — This  morning,  as  I  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of 
my  bed  cudgelling  my  brains,  I  heard  without  a  cracking  oi 
whips  and  pounding  and  scraping  of  horses'  feet  up  th^, 
rocky  path  beyond  the  courtyard.  With  joy  I  hurried  to 
the  window,  and  saw  drive  into  the  yard  two  great  leiter- 
wagons,  each  drawn  by  eight  sturdy  horses,  and  at  the 
head  of  each  pair  a  Slovak,  with  his  wide  hat,  great  nail- 
studded  belt,  dirty  sheepskin,  and  high  boots.  They  had 
also  their  long  staves  in  hand.  I  ran  to  the  door,  intending 


to  descend  and  try  and  join  them  through  the  main  hall, 
as  I  thought  that  way  might  be  opened  for  them.  Again 
a  shock :  my  door  was  fastened  on  the  outside. 

Then  I  ran  to  the  window  and  cried  to  them.  They 
looked  up  at  me  stupidly  and  pointed,  but  just  then  the 
**hetman"  of  the  Szgany  came  out,  and  seeing  them  point- 
ing to  my  window,  said  something,  at  which  they  laughed. 
Henceforth  no  effort  of  mine,  no  piteous  cry  or  agonised 
entreaty,  would  make  them  even  look  at  me.  They  reso- 
lutely turned  away.  The  leiter-wagons  contained  great, 
square  boxes,  with  handles  of  thick  rope ;  these  were  evi- 
dently empty  by  the  ease  with  which  the  Slovaks  handled 
them,  and  by  their  resonance  as  they  were  roughly  moved. 
When  they  were  all  unloaded  and  packed  in  a  great  heap 
in  one  corner  of  the  yard,  the  Slovaks  were  given  some 
money  by  the  Szgany,  and  spitting  on  it  for  luck,  lazily 
went  each  to  his  horse's  head.  Shortly  afterwards,  I  heard 
the  cracking  of  their  whips  die  away  in  the  distance. 

2^  June,  before  morning. — Last  night  the  Count  left 
me  earty,  and  locked  himself  into  his  own  room.  As  soon 
as  I  dared  I  ran  up  the  winding  stair,  and  looked  out  of 
the  window,  which  opened  south.  I  thought  I  would  watch 
for  the  Count,  for  there  is  something  going  on.  The 
Szgany  are  quartered  somewhere  in  the  castle  and  are  do- 
ing work  of  some  kind.  I  know  it,  for  now  and  then  I 
hear  a  far-away  muffled  sound  as  of  mattock  and  spade, 
and,  whatever  it  is,  it  must  be  the  end  of  some  ruthless 

I  had  been  at  the  window  somewhat  less  than  half  an 
hour,  when  I  saw  something  coming  out  of  the  Count's 
window.  I  drew  back  and  watched  carefully,  and  saw  the 
whole  man  emerge.  It  was  a  new  shock  to  me  to  find  that 
he  had  on  the  suit  of  clothes  which  I  had  worn  whilst 
travelling  here,  and  slung  over  his  shoulder  the  terrible 
bag  which  I  had  seen  the  women  take  away.  There  could  be 
no  doubt  as  to  his  quest,  and  in  my  garb,  too !  This,  then, 
is  his  new  schente  of  evil :  that  he  will  allow  others  to  see 
me,  as  they  think,  so  that  he  may  both  leave  evidence  that 


I  have  been  seen  in  the  towns  or  villages  posting  my  own 
letters,  and  that  any  wickedness  which  he  may  do  shall  by 
the  local  people  be  attributed  to  me. 

It  makes  me  rage  to  think  that  this  can  go  on,  and  whilst 
I  am  shut  up  here,  a  veritable  prisoner,  but  without  that 
protection  of  the  law  which  is  even  a  criminal's  right  and 

I  thought  I  would  watch  for  the  Count's  return,  and  for 
a  long  time  sat  doggedly  at  the  window.  Then  I  began  to 
notice  that  there  were  some  quaint  little  specks  floating 
in  the  rays  of  the  moonlight.  They  were  like  the  tiniest 
grains  of  dust,  and  they  whirled  round  and  gathered  in 
clusters  in  a  nebulous  sort  of  way.  I  watched  them  with  a 
sense  of  soothing,  and  a  sort  of  calm  stole  over  me.  I 
leaned  back  in  the  embrasure  in  a  more  comfortable  posi- 
tion, so  that  I  could  enjoy  more  fully  the  aerial  gambol- 

Something  made  me  start  up,  a  low,  piteous  howling  of 
dogs  somewhere  far  below  in  the  valley,  v/hich  was  hidden 
from  my  sight.  Louder  it  seemed  to  ring  in  my  ears,  and 
the  floating  motes  of  dust  to  take  new  shapes  to  the  sound 
as  they  danced  in  the  moonlight.  I  felt  myself  struggling 
to  awake  to  some  call  of  my  instincts ;  nay,  my  very  soul 
was  struggling,  and  my  half-remembered  sensibilities  were 
striving  to  answer  the  call.  I  was  becoming  hypnotised ! 
Quicker  and  quicker  danced  the  dust;  the  moonbeams 
seemed  to  quiver  as  they  went  by  me  into  the  mass  of 
gloom  beyond.  More  and  more  they  gathered  till  they 
seemed  to  take  dim  phantom  shapes.  And  then  I  started, 
broad  awake  and  in  full  possession  of  my  senses,  and  ran 
screaming  from  the  place.  The  phantom  shapes,  which  were 
becoming  gradually  materialised  from  the  moonbeams, 
were  those  of  the  three  ghostly  women  to  whom  I  was 
doomed.  I  fled,  and  felt  somewhat  safer  in  my  own  room, 
where  there  was  no  moonlight  and  where  the  lamp  was 
burning  brightly. 

When  a  couple  of  hours  had  passed  I  heard  something 
stirring  in  the  Count's  room,  something  like  a  sharp  wail 
quickly  suppressed ;  and  then  there  was  silence,  deep,  aw- 
ful silence,  which  chilled  me.  With  a  beating  heart,  I  tried 


the  door;  but  I  was  locked  in  my  prison,  and  could  do 
nothing.  I  sat  down  and  simply  cried. 

As  I  sat  I  heard  a  sound  in  the  courtyard  without — ^the 
agonised  cry  of  a  woman.  I  rushed  to  the  window,  and 
throwing  it  up,  peered  out  between  the  bars.  There,  in- 
deed, was  a  woman  with  dishevelled  hair,  holding  her 
hands  over  her  heart  as  one  distressed  with  running.  She 
was  leaning  against  a  corner  of  the  gateway.  When  she 
saw  my  face  at  the  window  she  threw  herself  forward, 
and  shouted  in  a  voice  laden  with  menace : — 

''Monster,  give  me  my  child !" 

She  threw  herself  on  her  knees,  and  raising  up  her 
hands,  cried  the  same  words  in  tones  which  wrung  my 
heart.  Then  she  tore  her  hair  and  beat  her  breast,  and 
abandoned  herself  to  all  the  violences  of  extravagant 
emotion.  Finally,  she  threw  herself  forward,  and,  though 
I  could  not  see  her,  I  could  hear  the  beating  of  her  naked 
hands  against  the  door. 

Somewhere  high  overhead,  probably  on  the  tower,  I 
heard  the  voice  of  the  Count  calling  in  his  harsh,  metallic 
whisper.  His  call  seemed  to  be  answered  from  far  and  wide 
by  the  howling  of  wolves.  Before  many  minutes  had 
passed  a  pack  of  them  poured,  like  a  pent-up  dam  when 
liberated,  through  the  wide  entrance  into  the  courtyard. 

There  was  no  cry  from  the  woman,  and  the  howling  of 
the  wolves  was  but  short.  Before  long  they  streamed  away 
singly,  licking  their  lips. 

I  could  not  pity  her,  for  I  knew  now  what  had  become 
of  her  child,  and  she  was  better  dead. 

What  shall  I  do  ?  what  can  I  do  ?  How  can  I  escape  from 
this  dreadful  thing  of  night  and  gloom  and  fear? 

^5  June,  morning. — No  man  knows  till  he  has  suffered 
from  the  night  how  sweet  and  how  dear  to  his  heart  and 
eye  the  morning  can  be.  When  the  sun  grew  so  high  this 
morning  that  it  struck  the  top  of  the  great  gateway  oppo- 
site my  window,  the  high  spot  which  it  touched  seemed 
to  me  as  if  the  dove  from  the  ark  had  lighted  there.  My 
fear  fell  from  me  as  if  it  had  been  a  vaporous  garment 
^hich  dissolved  in  the  warmth.  I  must  take  action  of  some 

•JONATHAN    HARKER'S    JOURNAL         51 

sort  whilst  the  courage  of  the  day  is  upon  me.  Last  night 
one  of  my  post-dated  letters  went  to  post,  the  first  of  that 
fatal  series  which  is  to  blot  out  the  very  traces  of  my 
existence  from  the  earth. 

Let  me  not  think  of  it.  Action! 

It  has  always  been  at  night-time  that  I  have  been 
molested  or  threatened,  or  in  some  way  in  danger  or  in 
fear.  I  have  not  yet  seen  the  Count  in  the  daylight.  Can 
it  be  that  he  sleeps  when  others  wake,  that  he  may  be 
awake  whilst  they  sleep?  If  I  could  only  get  into  his 
room !  But  there  is  no  possible  way.  The  door  is  always 
locked,  no  way  for  me. 

Yes,  there  is  a  way,  if  one  dares  to  take  it.  Where  his 
body  has  gone  why  may  not  another  body  go?  I  have 
seen  him  myself  crawl  from  his  window.  Why  should  not 
I  imitate  him,  and  go  in  by  his  window?  The  chances  are 
desperate,  but  my  need  is  more  desperate  still.  I  shall  risk 
it.  At  the  worst  it  can  only  be  death;  and  a  man's  death 
is  not  a  calf's,  and  the  dreaded  Hereafter  may  still  be  open 
to  me.  God  help  me  in  my  task !  Good-bye,  Mina,  if  I  fail ; 
good-bye,  my  faithful  friend  and  second  father;  good- 
bye, all,  and  last  of  all  Mina ! 

Same  day,  later. — I  have  made  the  effort,  and,  God  help* 
ing  me,  have  come  safely  back  to  this  room.  I  must  put 
down  every  detail  in  order.  I  went  whilst  my  courage  was 
fresh  straight  to  the  window  on  the  south  side,  and  at  once 
got  outside  on  the  narrow  ledge  of  stone  which  runs 
around  the  building  on  this  side.  The  stones  are  big  and 
roughly  cut,  and  the  mortar  has  by  process  of  time  been 
washed  away  between  them.  I  took  off  my  boots,  and  ven- 
tured out  on  the  desperate  way.  I  looked  down  once,  so 
as  to  make  sure  that  a  sudden  glimpse  of  the  awful  depth 
would  not  overcome  me,  but  after  that  kept  my  eyes  away 
from  it.  I  knew  pretty  well  the  direction  and  distance  of 
the  Count's  window,  and  made  for  it  as  well  as  I  could, 
having  regard  to  the  opportunities  available.  I  did  not  feel 
dizzy — I  suppose  I  was  too  excited — and  the  time  seemed 
ridiculously  short  till  I  found  myself  standing  on  the 
window-sill  and  trying  to  raise  up  the  sash.  I  was  filled 


with  agitation,  however,  when  I  bent  down  and  slid  feet 
foremost  in  through  the  window.  Then  I  looked  around 
for  the  Count,  but,  with  surprise  and  gladness,  made  a 
discovery.  The  room  was  empty!  It  was  barely  furnished 
with  odd  things,  which  seemed  to  have  never  been  used; 
the  furniture  was  something  the  same  style  as  that  in  the 
south  rooms,  and  was  covered  with  dust.  I  looked  for  the 
key,  but  it  was  not  in  the  lock,  and  I  could  not  find  it  any- 
where. The  only  thing  I  found  was  a  great  heap  of  gold 
in  one  corner — gold  of  all  kinds,  Roman,  and  British,  and 
Austrian,  and  Hungarian,  and  Greek  and  Turkish  money, 
covered  with  a  film  of  dust,  as  though  it  had  lain  long  in 
the  ground.  None  of  it  that  I  noticed  was  less  than  three 
hundred  years  old.  There  were  also  chains  and  ornaments, 
some  jewelled,  but  all  of  them  old  and  stained. 

At  one  corner  of  the  room  was  a  heavy  door.  I  tried  it, 
for,  since  I  could  not  find  the  key  of  the  room  or  the  key 
of  the  outer  door,  which  was  the  main  object  of  my  search, 
I  must  make  further  examination,  or  all  my  efforts  would 
be  in  vain.  It  was  open,  and  led  through  a  stone  passage 
to  a  circular  stairway,  which  went  steeply  down.  I  de- 
scended, minding  carefully  where  I  went,  for  the  stairs 
were  dark,  being  only  lit  by  loopholes  in  the  heavy 
masonry.  At  the  bottom  there  was  a  dark,  tunnel-like  pas- 
sage, through  which  came  a  deathly,  sickly  odour,  the 
odour  of  old  earth  newly  turned.  As  I  went  through  the 
passage  the  smell  grew  closer  and  heavier.  At  last  I  pulled 
open  a  heavy  door  which  stood  ajar,  and  found  myself  in 
an  old,  ruined  chapel,  which  had  evidently  been  used  as  a 
graveyard.  The  roof  was  broken,  and  in  two  places  were 
steps  leading  to  vaults,  but  the  ground  had  recently  been 
dug  over,  and  the  earth  placed  in  great  wooden  boxes, 
manifestly  those  which  had  been  brought  by  the  Slovaks. 
There  was  nobody  about,  and  I  made  search  for  any 
further  outlet,  but  there  was  none.  Then  I  went  over 
every  inch  of  the  ground,  so  as  not  to  lose  a  chance.  I 
went  down  even  into  the  vaults,  where  the  dim  light  strug- 
gled, although  to  do  so  was  a  dread  to  my  very  soul.  Into 
two  of  these  I  went,  but  saw  nothing  except  fragments 


of  old  coffins  and  piles  of  dust;  in  the  third,  however,  1 
made  a  discovery. 

There,  in  one  of  the  great  boxes,  of  which  there  were 
fifty  in  all,  on  a  pile  of  newly  dug  earth,  lay  the  Count! 
He  was  either  dead  or  asleep,  I  could  not  say  which — for 
the  eyes  were  open  and  stony,  but  without  the  glassiness 
of  death — and  the  cheeks  had  the  warmth  of  life  through 
all  their  pallor;  the  lips  were  as  red  as  ever.  But  there 
was  no  sign  of  movement,  no  pulse,  no  breath,  no  beating 
of  the  heart.  I  bent  over  him,  and  tried  to  find  any  sign 
of  life,  but  in  vain.  He  could  not  have  lain  there  long,  for 
the  earthy  smell  would  have  passed  away  in  a  few  hours. 
By  the  side  of  the  box  was  its  cover,  pierced  with  holes 
here  and  there.  I  thought  he  might  have  the  keys  on  him, 
but  when  I  went  to  search  I  saw  the  dead  eyes,  and  in 
them,  dead  though  they  were,  such  a  look  of  hate,  though 
unconscious  of  me  or  my  presence,  that  I  fled  from  the 
place,  and  leaving  the  Count's  room  by  the  window, 
crawled  again  up  the  castle  wall.  Regaining  my  room,  I 
threw  myself  panting  upon  the  bed  and  tried  to  think.  .  .  . 

2g  June. — To-day  is  the  date  of  my  last  letter,  and  the 
Count  has  taken  steps  to  prove  that  it  was  genuine,  for 
again  I  saw  him  leave  the  castle  by  the  same  window,  and 
in  my  clothes.  As  he  went  down  the  wall,  lizard  fashion,  I 
wished  I  had  a  gun  or  some  lethal  weapon,  that  I  might 
destroy  him ;  but  I  fear  that  no  weapon  wrought  alone 
by  man's  hand  would  have  any  effect  on  him.  I  dared  not 
wait  to  see  him  return,  for  I  feared  to  see  those  weird  sis- 
ters. I  came  back  to  the  library,  and  read  there  till  I  fell 

I  was  awakened  by  the  Count,  who  looked  at  me  as 
grimly  as  a  man  can  look  as  he  said : — 

"To-morrow,  my  friend,  we  must  part.  You  return  to 
your  beautiful  England,  I  to  some  work  which  may  have 
such  an  end  that  we  may  never  meet.  Your  letter  home 
has  been  despatched ;  to-morrow  I  shall  not  be  here,  but 
all  shall  be  ready  for  your  journey.  In  the  morning  come 
the  Szgany,  who  have  some  labours  of  their  own  here,  and 
also  come  some  Slovaks.  When  they  have  gone,  my  car- 


riage  shall  come  for  you,  and  shall  bear  you  to  the  Borgo 
Pass  to  meet  the  diligence  from  Bukovina  to  Bistritz.  But 
I  am  in  hopes  that  I  shall  see  more  of  you  at  Castle 
Dracula."  I  suspected  him,  and  determined  to  test  his 
sincerity.  Sincerity!  It  seems  like  a  profanation  of  the 
word  to  write  it  in  connection  with  such  a  monster,  so 
disked  him  point-blank: — 

"Why  may  I  not  go  to-night?" 

"Because,  dear  sir,  my  coachman  and  horses  are  away 
on  a  mission." 

"But  I  would  walk  with  pleasure.  I  want  to  get  away  at 
once."  He  smiled,  such  a  soft,  smooth,  diabolical  smile 
that  I  knew  there  was  some  trick  behind  his  smoothness. 
He  said: — 

"And  your  baggage  ?" 

"I  do  not  care  about  it.  I  can  send  for  it  some  other 

The  Count  stood  up,  and  said,  with  a  sweet  courtesy 
which  made  me  rub  my  eyes,  it  seemed  so  real : — 

"You  English  have  a  saying  which  is  close  to  my  heart, 
for  its  spirit  is  that  which  rules  our  boyars:  'Welcome  the 
coming ;  speed  the  parting  guest.'  Come  with  me,  my  dear 
young  friend.  Not  an  hour  shall  you  wait  in  my  house 
against  your  will,  though  sad  am  I  at  your  going,  and  that 
you  so  suddenly  desire  it.  Come !"  With  a  stately  gravity, 
he,  with  the  lamp,  preceded  me  down  the  stairs  and  along 
the  hall.  Suddenly  he  stopped. 


Close  at  hand  came  the  howling  of  many  wolves.  It  was 
almost  as  if  the  sound  sprang  up  at  the  rising  of  his  hand, 
just  as  the  music  of  a  great  orchestra  seems  to  leap  under 
the  baton  of  the  conductor.  After  a  pause  of  a  moment,  he 
proceeded,  in  his  stately  way,  to  the  door,  drew  back  the 
ponderous  bolts,  unhooked  the  heavy  chains,  and  began 
to  draw  it  open. 

To  my  intense  astonishment  I  saw  that  it  was  unlocked. 
Suspiciously,  I  looked  all  round,  but  could  see  no  key  of 
any  kind. 

As  the  door  began  to  open,  the  howling  of  the  wolves 
without  grew  louder  and  angrier;  their  red  jaws,  with 


champing  teeth,  and  their  blunt-clawed  feet  as  they  leaped,, 
came  in  through  the  opening  door.  I  knew  then  that  to 
struggle  at  the  moment  against  the  Count  was  useless. 
With  such  allies  as  these  at  his  command,  I  could  do  noth- 
ing. But  still  the  door  contmued  slowly  to  open,  and  only 
the  Count's  body  stood  in  the  gap.  Suddenly  it  struck  me 
that  this  might  be  the  moment  and  means  of  my  doom ;  I 
was  to  be  given  to  the  wolves,  and  at  my  own  instigation. 
There  was  a  diabolical  wickedness  in  the  idea  great  enough 
for  the  Count,  and  as  a  last  chance  I  cried  out : — 

"Shut  the  door;  I  shall  wait  till  morning!"  and  covered 
my  face  with  my  hands  to  hide  my  tears  of  bitter  disap- 
pointment. With  one  sweep  of  his  powerful  arm,  the 
Count  threw  the  door  shut,  and  the  great  bolts  clanged 
and  echoed  through  the  hall  as  they  shot  back  into  their 

In  silence  we  returned  to  the  library,  and  after  a  min- 
ute or  two  I  went  to  my  own  room.  The  last  I  saw  of 
Count  Dracula  was  his  kissing  his  hand  to  me ;  with  a  red 
light  of  triumph  in  his  eyes,  and  with  a  smile  that  Judas 
in  hell  might  be  proud  of. 

When  I  was  in  my  room  and  about  to  lie  down,  I 
thought  I  heard  a  whispering  at  my  door.  I  went  to  it 
softly  and  listened.  Unless  my  eai's  deceived  me,  I  heard 
the  voice  of  the  Count : — 

"Back,  back,  to  your  own  place !  Your  time  is  not  yet 
come.  Wait !  Have  patience !  To-night  is  mine.  To-morrow 
night  is  yours !"  There  was  a  low,  sweet  ripple  of  laughter, 
and  in  a  rage  I  threw  open  the  door,  and  saw  without  the 
three  terrible  women  licking  their  lips.  As  I  appeared  they 
all  joined  in  a  horrible  laugh,  and  ran  away. 

I  came  back  to  my  room  and  threw  myself  on  my  knees. 
It  is  then  so  near  the  end  ?  To-morrow !  to-morrow ! 
Lord,  help  me,  and  those  to  whom  I  am  dear ! 

50  June,  morning. — These  may  be.  the  last  words  I  ever 
write  in  this  diary.  I  slept  till  just  before  the  dawn,  and 
when  I  woke  threw  myself  on  my  knees,  for  I  determined 
that  if  Death  came  he  should  find  me  ready. 

At  last  I  felt  that  subtle  change  in  the  air,  and  knew  that 


the  morning  had  come.  Then  came  the  welcome  cock- 
crow, and  I  felt  that  I  was  safe.  With  a  glad  heart,  I 
opened  my  door  and  ran  down  to  the  hall.  I  had  seen  that 
the  door  was  unlocked,  and  now  escape  was  before  me. 
With  hands  that  trembled  with  eagerness,  I  unhooked  the 
chains  and  drew  back  the  massive  bolts. 

But  the  door  would  not  move.  Despair  seized  me.  I 
pulled,  and  pulled,  at  the  door,  and  shook  it  till,  massive  as 
it  was,  it  rattled  in  its  casement.  I  could  see  the  bolt  shot. 
It  had  been  locked  after  I  left  the  Count. 

Then  a  wnld  desire  took  me  to  obtain  that  key  at  any 
risk,  and  I  determined  then  and  there  to  scale  the  wall 
again  and  gain  the  Count's  room.  He  might  kill  me,  but 
death  now  seemed  the  happier  choice  of  evils.  Without  a 
pause  I  rushed  up  to  the  east  window,  and  scrambled  down 
the  wall,  as  before,  into  the  Count's  room.  It  was  empty, 
but  that  was  as  I  expected.  I  could  not  see  a  key  any- 
where, but  the  heap  of  gold  remained.  I  went  through  the 
door  in  the  corner  and  down  the  winding  stair  and  along 
the  dark  passage  to  the  old  chapel.  I  knew  now  well  enough 
where  to  find  the  monster  I  sought. 

The  great  box  was  in  the  same  place,  close  against  the 
wall,  but  the  lid  was  laid  on  it,  not  fastened  down,  but 
with  the  nails  ready  in  their  places  to  be  hammered  home. 
I  knew  I  must  reach  the  body  for  the  key,  so  I  raised  the 
lid,  and  laid  it  back  against  the  wall ;  and  then  I  saw  some- 
thing which  filled  my  very  soul  with  horror.  There  lay  the 
Count,  but  looking  as  if  his  youth  had  been  half  renewed, 
for  the  white  hair  and  moustache  were  changed  to  dark 
iron-grey ;  the  cheeks  were  fuller,  and  the  white  skin 
seemed  ruby-red  underneath;  the  mouth  was  redder  than 
ever,  for  on  the  lips  were  gouts  of  fresh  blood,  which 
trickled  from  the  corners  of  the  mouth  and  ran  over  the 
chin  and  neck.  Even  the  deep,  burning  eyes  seemed  set 
amongst  swollen  flesh,  for  the  lids  and  pouches  under- 
neath were  bloated.  It  seemed  as  if  the  whole  awful  crea- 
ture were  simply  gorged  with  blood.  He  lay  like  a  filthy 
leech,  exhausted  with  his  repletion.  I  shuddered  as  I  bent 
over  to  touch  him,  and  every  sense  in  me  revolted  at  the 
contact;  but  I  had  to  search,  or  I  was  lost.  The  coming 


night  might  see  my  own  body  a  banquet  in  a  similar  way 
to  those  horrid  three.  I  felt  all  over  the  body,  but  no  sign 
could  I  find  of  the  key.  Then  I  stopped  and  looked  at  the 
Count.  There  was  a  mocking  smile  on  the  bloated  face 
which  seemed  to  drive  me  mad.  This  was  the  being  I  was 
helping  to  transfer  to  London,  where,  perhaps,  for  cen- 
turies to  come  he  might,  amongst  its  teeming  millions, 
satiate  his  lust  for  blood,  and  create  a  new  and  ever- 
widening  circle  of  semi-demons  to  batten  on  the  helpless. 
The  very  thought  drove  me  mad.  A  terrible  desire  came 
upon  me  to  rid  the  world  of  such  a  monster.  There  was  no 
lethal  weapon  at  hand,  but  I  seized  a  shovel  which  the 
workmen  had  been  using  to  fill  the  cases,  and  lifting  it 
high,  struck,  with  the  edge  downward,  at  the  hateful  face. 
But  as  I  did  so  the  head  turned,  and  the  eyes  fell  full  upon 
me,  with  all  their  blaze  of  basihsk  horror.  The  sight  seemed 
to  paralyse  me,  and  the  shovel  turned  in  my  hand  and 
glanced  from  the  face,  merely  making  a  deep  gash  above 
the  forehead.  The  shovel  fell  from  my  hand  across  the 
box,  and  as  I  pulled  it  away  the  flange  of  the  blade  caught 
the  edge  of  the  lid  which  fell  over  again,  and  hid  the  hor- 
rid thing  from  my  sight.  The  last  glimpse  I  had  was  of  the 
bloated  face,  blood-stained  and  fixed  with  a  grin  of  malice 
which  would  have  held  its  own  in  the  nethermost  hell. 

I  thought  and  thought  what  should  be  my  next  move, 
but  my  brain  seemed  on  fire,  and  I  waited  with  a  despair- 
ing feeling  growing  over  me.  As  I  waited  I  heard  in  the 
distance  a  gipsy  song  sung  by  merry  voices  coming  closer, 
and  through  their  song  the  rolling  of  heavy  wheels  and  the 
cracking  of  whips ;  the  Szgany  and  the  Slovaks  of  whom 
the  Count  had  spoken  were  coming.  With  a  last  look 
around  and  at  the  box  which  contained  the  vile  body,  I 
ran  from  the  place  and  gained  the  Count's  room,  deter- 
mined to  rush  out  at  the  moment  the  door  should  be 
opened.  With  strained  ears,  I  listened,  and  heard  down- 
stairs the  grinding  of  the  key  in  the  great  lock  and  the  fall- 
ing back  of  the  heavy  door.  There  must  have  been  some 
other  means  of  entry,  or  some  one  had  a  key  for  one  of  the 
locked  doors.  Then  there  came  the  sound  of  many  feet 
tramping  and  dying  away  in  some  passage  which  sent  up  a 


clanging  echo.  I  turned  to  run  down  again  towards  the 
vault,  where  I  might  find  the  new  entrance ;  but  at  the 
moment  there  seemed  to  come  a  violent  puff  of  wind,  and 
the  door  to  the  winding  stair  blew  to  with  a  shock  that  set 
the  dust  from  the  lintels  flying.  When  I  ran  to  push  it 
open,  I  found  that  it  was  hopelessly  fast.  I  was  again  a 
prisoner,  and  the  net  of  doom  was  closing  round  me  more 

As  I  write  there  is  in  the  passage  below  a  sound  of  many 
tramping  feet  and  the  crash  of  weights  being  set  down 
heavily,  doubtless  the  boxes,  with  their  freight  of  earth. 
There  is  a  sound  of  hammering ;  it  is  the  box  being  nailed 
down.  Now  I  can  hear  the  heavy  feet  tramping  again  along 
the  hall,  with  many  other  idle  feet  coming  behind  them. 

The  door  is  shut,  and  the  chains  rattle ;  there  is  a  grind- 
ing of  the  key  in  the  lock ;  I  can  hear  the  key  withdrawn : 
then  another  door  opens  and  shuts ;  I  hear  the  creaking  of 
lock  and  bolt. 

.  Hark !  in  the  courtyard  and  down  the  rocky  way  the  roll 
of  heavy  wheels,  the  crack  of  whips,  and  the  chorus  of  the 
Szgany  as  they  pass  into  the  distance. 

I  am  alone  in  the  castle  with  those  awful  women.  Faugh ! 
Mina  is  a  woman,  and  there  is  nought  in  common.  They 
are  devils  of  the  Pit ! 

I  shall  not  remain  alone  with  them;  I  shall  try  to  scale 
the  castle  wall  farther  than  I  have  yet  attempted.  I  shall 
take  some  of  the  gold  with  me,  lest  I  want  it  later.  I  may 
find  a  way  from  this  dreadful  place. 

And  then  away  for  home !  away  to  the  quickest  and 
nearest  train !  away  from  this  cursed  spot,  from  this 
cursed  land,  where  the  devil  and  his  children  still  walk 
with  earthly  feet ! 

At  least  God's  mercy  is  better  than  that  of  these  mon- 
sters, and  the  precipice  is  steep  and  high.  At  its  foot  a  man 
may  sleep — as  a  man.  Good-bye,  all!  Mina! 

Letter  from  Miss  Mina  Murray  to  Miss  Lucy  IVestenra. 

''p  May. 

"My  dearest  Lucy, — 

"Forgive  my  long  delay  in  writing,  but  I  have  been 
simply  overwhelmed  with  work.  The  life  of  an  assistant 
schoolmistress  is  sometimes  trying.  I  am  longing  to  be  with 
you,  and  by  the  sea,  where  we  can  talk  together  freely  and 
build  our  castles  in  the  air.  I  have  been  working  very  hard 
lately,  because  I  want  to  keep  up  with  Jonathan's  studies, 
and  I  have  been  practising  shorthand  very  assiduously. 
When  we  are  married  I  shall  be  able  to  be  useful  to  Jona- 
than, and  if  I  can  stenograph  well  enough  I  can  take  down 
what  he  wants  to  say  in  this  way  and  write  it  out  for  him 
on  the  typewriter,  evt  which  also  I  am  practising  very  hard. 
He  and  I  sometimes  write  letters  in  shorthand,  and  he  is 
keeping  a  stenographic  journal  of  his  travels  abroad.  When 
I  am  with  you  I  shall  keep  a  diary  in  the  same  way.  I  don't 
mean  one  of  those  two-pages-to-the-week-with-Sunday- 
squeezed-in-a-corner  diaries,  but  a  sort  of  journal  which  I 
can  write  in  whenever  I  feel  inclined.  I  do  not  suppose 
there  will  be  much  of  interest  to  other  people ;  but  it  is  not 
intended  for  them.  I  may  show  it  to  Jonathan  some  day  if 
there  is  in  it  anything  worth  sharing,  but  it  is  really  an 
exercise  book.  I  shall  try  to  do  what  I  see  lady  journalists 
do :  interviewing  and  writing  descriptions  and  trying  to 
remember  conversations.  I  am  told  that,  with  a  little  prac- 
tice, one  can  remember  all  that  goes  on  or  that  one  hears 
said  during  a  day.  However,  we  shall  see.  I  will  tell  you  of 
my  little  plans  when  we  meet.  I  have  just  had  a  few  hur- 
ried lines  from  Jonathan  from  Transylvania.  He  is  well, 
and  will  be  returning  in  about  a  week.  I  am  longing  to 
hear  all  his  news.  It  must  be  so  nice  to  see  strange  coun- 


6o  DR  ACULA 

tries.  I  wonder  if  we — I  mean  Jonathan  and  I — shall  ever 
see  them  together.  There  is  the  ten  o'clock  bell  ringing. 

"Your  loving 


"Tell  me  all  the  news  when  you  write.  You  have  not  told 
me  anything  for  a  long  time.  I  hear  rumours,  and  espe- 
cially of  a  tall,  handsome,  curly-haired  man???" 

Letter,  Lucy  Westetira  to  Mina  Murray. 

"17,  Chatham  Street, 

**My  dearest  Mina, — 

"I  must  say  you  tax  me  very  unfairly  with  being  a  bad 
correspondent.  I  wrote  to  you  tmice  since  we  parted,  and 
your  last  letter  was  only  your  second.  Besides,  I  have  noth- 
ing to  tell  you.  There  is  really  nothing  to  interest  you. 
Town  is  very  pleasant  just  now,  and  we  go  a  good  deal  to 
picture-galleries  and  for  walks  and  rides  in  the  park.  As  to 
the  tall,  curly-haired  man,  I  suppose  it  was  the  one  who 
was  with  me  at  the  last  Pop.  Some  one  has  evidently  been 
telling  tales.  That  was  Mr.  Holmwood.  He  often  comes  to 
see  us,  and  he  and  mamma  get  on  very  well  together ;  they 
have  so  many  things  to  talk  about  in  common.  We  met 
some  time  ago  a  man  that  would  just  do  for  you,  if  you 
were  not  already  engaged  to  Jonathan.  He  is  an  excellent 
parti,  being  handsome,  well  off,  and  of  good  birth.  He  is  a 
doctor  and  really  clever.  Just  fancy !  He  is  only  nine-and- 
twenty,  and  he  has  an  immense  lunatic  asylum  all  under  his 
own  care.  Mr.  Holmwood  introduced  him  to  me,  and  he 
called  here  to  see  us,  and  often  comes  now.  I  think  he  is 
one  of  the  most  resolute  men  I  ever  saw,  and  yet  the  most 
calm.  He  seems  absolutely  imperturbable.  I  can  fancy  what 
a  wonderful  power  he  must  have  over  his  patients.  He  has 
a  curious  habit  of  looking  one  straight  in  the  face,  as  if 
trying  to  read  one's  thoughts.  He  tries  this  on  very  much 
with  me,  but  I  flatter  myself  he  has  got  a  tough  nut  to 
track.  I  know  that  from  my  glass.  Do  you  ever  try  to  read 

LETTERS,     ETC.  6r 

your  own  face  ?  /  do,  and  I  can  tell  you  it  is  not  a  bad 
study,  and  gives  you  more  trouble  than  you  can  well  fancy 
if  you  have  never  tried  it.  He  says  that  I  afford  him  a  cu- 
rious psychological  study,  and  I  humbly  think  I  do.  I  do 
not,  as  you  know,  take  sufficient  interest  in  dress  to  be 
able  to  describe  the  new  fashions.  Dress  is  a  bore.  That  is 
slang  again,  but  never  mind ;  Arthur  says  that  every  day. 
There,  it  is  all  out.  Mina,  we  have  told  all  our  secrets  to 
each  other  since  we  were  children;  we  have  slept  together 
and  eaten  together,  and  laughed  and  cried  together;  and 
now,  though  I  have  spoken,  I  would  like  to  speak  more. 
Oh,  Mina,  couldn't  you  guess?  I  love  him.  I  am  blushing 
as  I  write,  for  although  I  think  he  loves  me,  he  has  not  told 
me  so  in  words.  But  oh,  Mina,  I  love  him ;  I  love  him ;  I 
love  him !  There,  that  does  me  good.  I  wish  I  were  with 
you,  dear,  sitting  by  the  fire  undressing,  as  we  used  to  sit ; 
and  I  would  try  to  tell  you  what  I  feel.  I  do  not  know  how 
I  am  writing  this  even  to  you.  I  am  afraid  to  stop,  or  I 
should  tear  up  the  letter,  and  I  don't  want  to  stop,  for  I  do 
so  want  to  tell  you  all.  Let  me  hear  from  you  at  once,  and 
tell  me  all  that  you  think  about  it.  Mina,  I  must  stop.  Good- 
night. Bless  me  in  your  prayers ;  and,  Mina,  pray  for  my 


*T.S. — I  need  not  tell  you  this  is  a  secret.  Good-night 

Letter,  Lucy  Westenra  to  Mina  Murray. 

"24  May. 
"My  Nearest  Mina, — 

"Thanks,  and  thanks,  and  thanks  again  for  your  sweet 
letter.  It  was  so  nice  to  be  able  to  tell  you  and  to  have  your 

"My  dear,  it  never  rains  but  it  pours.  How  true  the  old 
proverbs  are.  Here  am  I,  who  shall  be  twenty  in  Septem-' 
ber,  and  yet  I  never  had  a  proposal  till  to-day,  not  a  real' 
proposal,  and  to-day  I  have  had  three.  Just  fancy !  Three 


proposals  in  one  day !  Isn't  it  awful !  I  feel  sorry,  really  and 
truly  sorry,  for  two  of  the  poor  fellows.  Oh,  Mina,  I  am 
so  happy  that  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  myself.  And 
three  proposals !  But,  for  goodness'  sake,  don't  tell  any  of 
the  girls,  or  they  would  be  getting  all  sorts  of  extravagant 
ideas  and  imagining  themselves  injured  and  slighted  if  in 
their  very  first  day  at  home  they  did  not  get  six  at  least. 
Some  girls  are  so  vain!  You  and  I,  Mina  dear,  who  are 
engaged  and  are  going  to  settle  down  soon  soberly  into  old 
married  women,  can  despise  vanity.  Well,  I  must  tell  you 
about  the  three,  but  you  must  keep  it  a  secret,  dear,  from 
every  one,  except,  of  course,  Jonathan.  You  will  tell  him, 
because  I  would,  if  I  were  in  your  place,  certainly  tell 
Arthur.  A  woman  ought  to  tell  her  husband  everything — 
don't  you  think  so,  dear? — and  I  must  be  fair.  Men  like 
women,  certainly  their  wives,  to  be  quite  as  fair  as  they 
are ;  and  women,  I  am  afraid,  are  not  always  quite  as  fair 
as  they  should  be.  Well,  my  dear,  number  One  came  just 
before  lunch.  I  told  you  of  him.  Dr.  John  Seward,  the 
lunatic-asylum  man,  with  the  strong  jaw  and  the  good 
forehead.  He  was  very  cool  outwardly,  but  was  nervous  all 
the  same.  He  had  evidently  been  schooling  himself  as  to  all 
sorts  of  little  things,  and  remembered  them ;  but  he  almost 
managed  to  sit  down  on  his  silk  hat,  which  men  don't  gen- 
erally do  when  they  are  cool,  and  then  when  he  wanted  to 
appear  at  ease  he  kept  playing  with  a  lancet  in  a  way  that 
made  me  nearly  scream.  He  spoke  to  me,  Mina,  very 
straightforwardly.  He  told  me  how  dear  I  was  to  him, 
though  he  had  known  me  so  little,  and  what  his  life  would 
be  with  me  to  help  and  cheer  him.  He  was  going  to  tell  me 
how  unhappy  he  would  be  if  I  did  not  care  for  him,  but 
when  he  saw  me  cry  he  said  that  he  was  a  brute  and  would 
not  add  to  my  present  trouble.  Then  he  broke  off  and  asked 
if  I  could  love  him  in  time ;  and  when  I  shook  my  head  his 
hands  trembled,  and  then  with  some  hesitation  he  asked  me 
if  I  cared  already  for  any  one  else.  He  put  it  very  nicely, 
saying  that  he  did  not  want  to  wring  my  confidence  from 
me,  but  only  to  know,  because  if  a  woman's  heart  was  free 
a  man  might  have  hope.  And  then,  Mina,  I  felt  a  sort  of 

LETTERS,    ETC.  63 

duty  to  tell  him  that  there  was  some  one.  I  only  told  him 
that  much,  and  then  he  stood  up,  and  he  looked  very  strong 
and  very  grave  as  he  took  both  my  hands  in  his  and  said 
he  hoped  I  would  be  happy,  and  that  if  I  ever  wanted  a 
friend  I  must  count  him  one  of  my  best.  Oh,  Mina  dear, 
I  can't  help  crying :  and  you  must  excuse  this  letter  being 
all  blotted.  Being  proposed  to  is  all  very  nice  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing,  but  it  isn't  at  all  a  happy  thing  when  you 
have  to  see  a  poor  fellow,  whom  you  know  loves  you  hon- 
estly, going  away  and  looking  all  broken-hearted,  and  to 
know  that,  no  matter  what  he  may  say  at  the  moment,  you 
are  passing  quite  out  of  his  life.  My  dear,  I  must  stop  here 
at  present,  I  feel  so  miserable,  though  I  am  so  happy. 

"Arthur  has  just  gone,  and  I  feel  in  better  spirits  than 
when  I  left  off,  so  I  can  go  on  telling  you  about  the  day. 
Well,  my  dear,  number  Two  came  after  lunch.  He  is  such 
a  nice  fellow,  an  American  from  Texas,  and  he  looks  so 
young  and  so  fresh  that  it  seems  almost  impossible  that 
he  has  been  to  so  many  places  and  has  had  such  adventures. 
I  sympathise  with  poor  Desdemona  when  she  had  such  a 
dangerous  stream  poured  in  her  ear,  even  by  a  black  man. 
I  suppose  that  we  women  are  such  cowards  that  we  think 
a  man  will  save  us  from  fears,  and  we  marry  him.  I  know 
now  what  I  would  do  if  I  were  a  man  and  wanted  to  make 
a  girl  love  me.  No,  I  don't,  for  there  was  Mr.  Morris 
telling  us  his   stories,   and  Arthur  never  told   any,   and 

yet My  dear,  I  am  somewhat  previous.  Mr.  Quincey 

P.  Morris  found  me  alone.  It  seems  that  a  man  always 
does  find  a  girl  alone.  No,  he  doesn't,  for  Arthur  tried 
twice  to  make  a  chance,  and  I  helping  him  all  I  could ;  I  am 
not  ashamed  to  say  it  now.  I  must  tell  you  beforehand  that 
Mr.  Morris  doesn't  always  speak  slang — that  is  to  say,  he 
never  does  so  to  strangers  or  before  them,  for  he  is  really 
well  educated  and  has  exquisite  manners — but  he  found 
out  that  it  amused  me  to  hear  him  talk  American  slang,  and 
whenever  I  was  present,  and  there  was  no  one  to  be 
shocked,  he  said  such  funny  things.  I  am  afraid,  my  dear, 


he  has  to  invent  it  all,  for  it  fits  exactly  into  whatever  else 
he  has  to  say.  But  this  is  a  way  slang  has.  I  do  not  know 
myself  if  I  shall  ever  speak  slang ;  I  do  not  know  if  Arthur 
likes  it,  as  I  have  never  heard  him  use  any  as  yet.  Well, 
Mr.  Morris  sat  down  beside  me  and  looked  as  happy  and 
jolly  as  he  could,  but  I  could  see  all  the  same  that  he  was 
very  nervous.  He  took  my  hand  in  his,  and  said  ever  so 
sweetly : — 

*'  'Miss  Lucy,  I  know  I  ain't  good  enough  to  regulate  the 
fixin's  of  your  little  shoes,  but  I  guess  if  you  wait  till  you 
find  a  man  that  is  you  will  go  join  them  seven  young 
women  with  the  lamps  when  you  quit.  Won't  you  just  hitch 
up  alongside  of  me  and  let  us  go  down  the  long  road  to- 
gether, driving  in  double  harness  ?' 

"Well,  he  did  look  so  good-humoured  and  so  jolly  that 
it  didn't  seem  half  so  hard  to  refuse  him  as  it  did  poor 
Dr.  Seward ;  so  I  said,  as  lightly  as  I  could,  that  I  did  not 
know  anything  of  hitching,  and  that  I  wasn't  broken  to 
harness  at  all  yet.  Then  he  said  that  he  had  spoken  in  a 
light  manner,  and  he  hoped  that  if  he  had  made  a  mistake 
in  doing  so  on  so  grave,  so  momentous,  an  occasion  for 
him,  I  would  forgive  him.  He  really  did  look  serious  when 
he  was  saying  it,  and  I  couldn't  help  feeling  a  bit  serious 
too — I  know,  Mina,  you  will  think  me  a  horrid  flirt — 
though  I  couldn't  help  feeling  a  sort  of  exultation  that  he 
was  number  two  in  one  day.  And  then,  my  dear,  before 
I  could  say  a  word  he  began  pouring  out  a  perfect  torrent 
of  love-making,  laying  his  very  heart  and  soul  at  my  feet. 
He  looked  so  earnest  over  it  that  I  shall  never  again  think 
that  a  man  must  be  playful  always,  and  never  earnest, 
because  he  is  merry  at  times.  I  suppose  he  saw  something 
in  my  face  which  checked  him,  for  he  suddenly  stopped, 
and  said  with  a  sort  of  manly  fervour  that  I  could  have 
loved  him  for  if  I  had  been  free  : — 

"  *Lucy,  you  are  an  honest-hearted  girl,  I  know.  I  should 
not  be  here  speaking  to  you  as  I  am  now  if  I  did  not  be- 
lieve you  clean  grit,  right  through  to  the  very  depths  of 
your  soul.  Tell  me,  like  one  good  fellow  to  another,  is  there 
any  one  else  that  you  care  for?  And  if  there  is  I'll  never 

LETTERS,    E  T  C  .  65 

trouble  you  a  hair's  breadth  again,  but  will  be,  if  you  will 
let  me,  a  very  faithful  friend.' 

"My  dear  Mina,  why  are  men  so  noble  when  we  women 
are  so  little  worthy  of  them?  Here  was  I  almost  making 
fun  of  this  great-hearted,  true  gentlemen.  I  burst  into  tears 
— I  am  afraid,  my  dear,  you  will  think  this  a  very  sloppy 
letter  in  more  ways  than  one — and  I  really  felt  very  badly. 
Why  can't  they  let  a  girl  marry  three  men,  or  as  many  as 
want  her,  and  save  all  this  trouble  ?  But  this  is  heresy,  and 
I  must  not  say  it.  I  am  glad  to  say  that,  though  I  was  cry- 
ing, I  was  able  to  look  into  Mr.  Morris's  brave  eyes,  and 
told  him  out  straight : — 

'*  *Yes,  there  is  some  one  I  love,  though  he  has  not  told 
me  yet  that  he  even  loves  me.'  I  was  right  to  speak  to  him 
so  frankly,  for  quite  a  light  came  into  his  face,  and  he  put 
out  both  his  hands  and  took  mine — I  think  I  put  them  into 
his — and  said  in  a  hearty  way  : — 

**  'That's  my  brave  girl.  It's  better  worth  being  late  for  a 
chance  of  winning  you  than  being  in  time  for  any  other 
girl  in  the  world.  Don't  cry,  my  dear.  If  it's  for  me,  I'm  a 
hard  nut  to  crack;  and  I  take  it  standing  up.  If  that  other 
fellow  doesn't  know  his  happiness,  well,  he'd  better  look 
for  it  soon,  or  he'll  have  to  deal  with  me.  Little  girl,  your 
honesty  and  pluck  have  made  me  a  friend,  and  that's 
rarer  than  a  lover;  it's  more  unselfish  anyhow.  My  dear, 
I'm  going  to  have  a  pretty  lonely  walk  between  this  and 
Kingdom  Come.  Won't  you  give  me  one  kiss  ?  It'll  be  some- 
thing to  keep  off  the  darkness  now  and  then.  You  can,  you 
know,  if  you  like,  for  that  other  good  fellow — he  must  be 
a  good  fellow,  my  dear,  and  a  fine  fellow,  or  you  could  not 
love  him — hasn't  spoken  yet.'  That  quite  won  me,  Mina, 
for  it  was  brave  and  sweet  of  him,  and  noble,  too,  to  a  rival 
— wasn't  it? — and  he  so  sad;  so  I  leant  over  and  kissed 
him.  He  stood  up  with  my  two  hands  in  his,  and  as  he 
looked  down  into  my  face — I  am  afraid  I  was  blushing 
very  much — he  said  : — 

"  'Little  girl,  I  hold  your  hand,  and  you've  kissed  me, 
and  if  these  things  don't  make  us  friends  nothing  ever  will. 
Thank  you  for  your  sweet  honesty  to  me,  and  good-bye/ 


He  wrung  my  hand,  and  taking  up  his  hat,  went  straight 
out  of  the  room  without  looking  back,  without  a  tear  or  a 
quiver  or  a  pause ;  and  I  am  crying  Hke  a  baby.  Oh,  why 
must  a  man  Uke  that  be  made  unhappy  when  there  are  lots 
of  girls  about  who  would  worship  the  very  ground  he  trod 
on?  I  know  I  would  if  I  were  free — only  I  don't  want  to 
be  free.  My  dear,  this  quite  upset  me,  and  I  feel  I  cannot 
write  of  happiness  just  at  once,  after  telling  you  of  it ;  and 
I  don't  wish  to  tell  of  the  number  three  until  it  can  be  all 

"Ever  your  loving 

"P.S. — Oh,  about  number  Three — I  needn't  tell  you  of 
number  Three,  need  I  ?  Besides,  it  was  all  so  confused ;  it 
seemed  only  a  moment  from  his  coming  into  the  room  till 
both  his  arms  were  round  me,  and  he  was  kissing  me.  I  am 
very,  very  happy,  and  I  don't  know  what  I  have  done  to 
deserve  it.  I  must  only  try  in  the  future  to  show  that  I  am 
not  ungrateful  to  God  for  all  His  goodness  to  me  in  send- 
ing to  me  such  a  lover,  such  a  husband,  and  such  a  friend. 


Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 
(Kept  in  phonograph) 

^5  May. — Ebb  tide  in  appetite  to-day.  Cannot  eat,  cannot 
rest,  so  diary  instead.  Since  my  rebuff  of  yesterday  I  have 
a  sort  of  empty  feeling ;  nothing  in  the  world  seems  of  suf- 
ficient importance  to  be  worth  the  doing.  ...  As  I  knew 
that  the  only  cure  for  this  sort  of  thing  was  work,  I  went 
down  amongst  the  patients.  I  picked  out  one  who  has  af- 
forded me  a  study  of  much  interest.  He  is  so  quaint  that 
f  am  determined  to  understand  him  as  well  as  I  can.  To- 
day I  seemed  to  get  nearer  than  ever  before  to  the  heart  of 
his  mystery. 

I  questioned  him  more  fully  than  I  had  ever  done,  with 
a  view  to  making  myself  master  of  the  facts  of  his  hallu- 
cination. In  my  manner  of  doing  it  there  was,  I  now  see, 
something  of  cruelty.  I  seemed  to  wish  to  keep  him  to  the 

LETTERS,    ETC.  6y 

point  of  his  madness — a  thing  which  I  avoid  with  the  pa- 
tients as  I  would  the  mouth  of  hell. 

(Mem.,  under  what  circumstances  would  I  not  avoid  the 
pit  of  hell?)  Omnia  Romcs  venalia  sunt.  Hell  has  its  price! 
%'erb.  sap.  If  there  be  anything  behind  this  instinct  it  will  be 
valuable  to  trace  it  afterwards  accurately,  so  I  had  better 
commence  to  do  so,  therefore — 

R.  M.  Renfield,  setat  59. — Sanguine  temperament ;  great 
physical  strength ;  morbidly  excitable ;  periods  of  gloom, 
ending  in  some  fixed  idea  which  I  cannot  make  out.  I  pre- 
sume that  the  sanguine  temperament  itself  and  the  disturb- 
ing influence  end  in  a  mentally-accomplished  finish ;  a  pos- 
sibly dangerous  man,  probably  dangerous  if  unselfish.  In 
selfish  men  caution  is  as  secure  an  armour  for  their  foes 
as  for  themselves.  What  I  think  of  on  mis  point  is,  when 
self  is  the  fixed  point  the  centripetal  force  is  balanced  with 
the  centrifugal ;  when  duty,  a  cause,  etc.,  is  the  fixed  point, 
the  latter  force  is  paramount,  and  only  accident  or  a  series 
of  accidents  can  balance  it. 

Letter,  Quincey  P.  Morris  to  Hon.  Arthu/  Holmwood. 

''25  May. 
"'My  dear  Art, — 

"We've  told  yarns  by  the  camp-fire  in  the  prairies ;  and 
dressed  one  another's  wounds  after  trying  a  landing  at  the 
Marquesas;  and  drunk  healths  on  the  shore  of  Titicaca. 
There  are  more  yarns  to  be  told,  and  other  wounds  to  be 
healed,  and  another  health  to  be  drunk.  Won't  you  let  this 
be  at  my  camp-fire  to-morrow  night?  I  have  no  hesitation 
in  asking  you,  as  I  know  a  certain  lady  is  engaged  to  a  cer- 
tain dinner-party,  and  that  you  are  free.  There  will  only 
be  one  other,  our  old  pal  at  the  Korea,  Jack  Seward.  He's 
coming,  too,  and  we  both  want  to  mingle  our  weeps  over 
the  wine-cup,  and  to  drink  a  health  with  all  our  hearts  to 
the  happiest  man  in  all  the  wide  world,  who  has  won  the 
noblest  heart  that  God  has  made  and  the  best  worth  win- 
ning. We  promise  you  a  hearty  welcome,  and  a  loving 
greeting,  and  a  health  as  true  as  your  own  right  hand.  We 


shall  both  swear  to  leave  you  at  home  if  you  drink  too  deep 
to  a  certain  pair  of  eyes.  Come ! 

"Yours,  as  ever  and  always, 

"QuiNCEY  p.  Morris/^ 

Telegram  from  Arthur  Holmwood  to  Quincey  P.  Morris, 

"26  May. 
"Count  me  in  every  time.  I  bear  messages  which  will 
make  both  your  ears  tingle. 


MiNA  Murray's  journal 

2^  July.  Whitby. — Lucy  met  me  at  the  station,  looking 
sweeter  and  lovelier  than  ever,  and  we  drove  up  to  the 
house  at  the  Crescent  in  which  they  have  rooms.  This  is  a 
lovely  place.  The  little  river,  the  Esk,  runs  through  a  deep 
valley,  which  broadens  out  as  it  comes  near  the  harbour. 
A  great  viaduct  runs  across,  with  high  piers,  through  which 
the  view  seems  somehow  further  away  than  it  really  is.  The 
valley  is  beautifully  green,  and  it  is  so  steep  that  when  you 
are  on  the  high  land  on  either  side  you  look  right  across  it, 
unless  you  are  near  enough  to  see  down.  The  houses  of  the 
old  town — the  side  away  from  us — are  all  red-roofed,  and 
seem  piled  up  one  over  the  other  anyhow,  like  the  pictures 
we  see  of  Nuremberg.  Right  over  the  town  is  the  ruin  of 
Whitby  Abbey,  which  was  sacked  by  the  Danes,  and  which 
is  the  scene  of  part  of  "Marmion,"  where  the  girl  was  built 
up  in  the  wall.  It  is  a  most  noble  ruin,  of  immense  size, 
and  full  of  beautiful  and  romantic  bits ;  there  is  a  legend 
that  a  white  lady  is  seen  in  one  of  the  windows.  Between  it 
and  the  town  there  is  another  church,  the  parish  one,  round 
which  is  a  big  graveyard,  all  full  of  tombstones.  This  is  to 
my  mind  the  nicest  spot  in  Whitby,  for  it  lies  right  over 
the  town,  and  has  a  full  view  of  the  harbour  and  all  up  the 
bay  to  where  the  headland  called  Kettleness  stretches  out 
into  the  sea.  It  descends  so  steeply  over  the  harbour  that 
part  of  the  bank  has  fallen  away,  and  some  of  the  graves 
have  been  destroyed.  In  one  place  part  of  the  stonework  of 
the  graves  stretches  out  over  the  sandy  pathway  far  below. 
There  are  walks,  with  seats  beside  them,  through  the 
churchyard ;  and  people  go  and  sit  there  all  day  long  look- 
ing at  the  beautiful  view  and  enjoying  the  breeze.  I  shall 
come  and  sit  here  very  often  myself  and  work.  Indeed,  I 



am  writing  now  with  my  book  on  my  knee,  and  listening  to 
the  talk  of  three  old  men  wh©  are  sitting  beside  me.  They 
seem  to  do  nothing  all  day  but  sit  up  here  and  talk. 

The  harbour  lies  below  me,  with,  on  the  far  side,  one 
long  granite  wall  stretching  out  into  the  sea,  with  a  curve 
outwards  at  the  end  of  it,  in  the  middle  of  which  is  a  light- 
house. A  heavy  sea-wall  runs  along  outside  of  it.  On  the 
near  side,  the  sea-wall  makes  an  elbow  crooked  inversely, 
and  its  end  too  has  a  lighthouse.  Between  the  two  piers 
there  is  a  narrow  opening  into  the  harbour,  which  then 
suddenly  widens. 

It  is  nice  at  high  water ;  but  when  the  tide  is  out  it  shoals 
away  to  nothing,  and  there  is  merely  the  stream  of  the 
Esk,  running  between  banks  of  sand,  with  rocks  here  and 
there.  Outside  the  harbour  on  this  side  there  rises  for  about 
half  a  mile  a  great  reef,  the  sharp  edge  of  which  runs 
straight  out  from  behind  the  south  lighthouse.  At  the  end 
of  it  is  a  buoy  with  a  bell,  which  swings  in  bad  weather, 
and  sends  in  a  mournful  sound  on  the  wind.  They  have  a 
legend  here  that  when  a  ship  is  lost  bells  are  heard  out  at 
sea.  I  must  ask  the  old  man  about  this ;  he  is  coming  this 
way.   .   .   . 

He  is  a  funny  old  man.  He  must  be  awfully  old,  for  his 
face  is  all  gnarled  and  twisted  like  the  bark  of  a  tree.  He 
tells  me  that  he  is  nearly  a  hundred,  and  that  he  was  a 
sailor  in  the  Greenland  fishing  fleet  when  Waterloo  was 
fought.  He  is,  I  am  afraid,  a  very  sceptical  person,  for 
when  I  asked  him  about  the  bells  at  sea  and  the  White 
Lady  at  the  abbey  he  said  very  brusquely : — 

"I  wouldn't  fash  masel'  about  them,  miss.  Them  things 
be  all  wore  out.  Mind,  I  don't  say  that  they  never  was,  but 
I  do  say  that  they  wasn't  in  my  time.  They  be  all  very  well 
for  comers  and  trippers,  an'  the  like,  but  not  for  a  nice 
young  lady  like  you.  Them  feet-folks  from  York  and  Leeds 
that  be  always  eatin'  cured  herrin's  an'  drinkin'  tea  an' 
lookin'  out  to  buy  cheap  jet  would  creed  aught.  I  wonder 
masel'  who'd  be  bothered  tellin'  lies  to  them — even  the 
newspapers,  which  is  full  of  fool-talk."  I  thought  he  would 
be  a  good  person  to  learn  interesting  things  from,  so  I 
asked  him  if  he  would  mind  telling  me  something  about 


the  whale-fishing  in  the  old  days.  He  was  just  settling  him- 
self to  begin  when  the  clock  struck  six,  whereupon  he 
laboured  to  get  up,  and  said : — 

"I  must  gang  ageean wards  home  now,  miss.  My  grand- 
daughter doesn't  like  to  be  kept  waitin'  when  the  tea  is 
ready,  for  it  takes  me  time  to  crammle  aboon  the  grees,  for 
there  be  a  many  of  'em ;  an',  miss,  I  lack  belly-timber  sairly 
by  the  clock." 

He  hobbled  away,  and  I  could  see  him  hurrying,  as  well 
as  he  could,  down  the  steps.  The  steps  are  a  great  feature 
on  the  place.  They  lead  from  the  town  up  to  the  church, 
there  are  hundreds  of  them — I  do  not  know  how  many — 
and  they  wind  up  in  a  delicate  curve ;  the  slope  is  so  gentle 
that  a  horse  could  easily  walk  up  and  down  them.  I  think 
they  must  originally  have  had  something  to  do  with  the 
abbey.  I  shall  go  home  too.  Lucy  went  out  visiting  with  her 
mother,  and  as  they  were  only  duty  calls,  I  did  not  go. 
They  will  be  home  by  this. 

I  August. — I  came  up  here  an  hour  ago  with  Lucy,  and 
we  had  a  most  interesting  talk  with  my  old  friend  and  the 
two  others  who  always  come  and  join  him.  He  is  evidently 
the  Sir  Oracle  of  them,  and  I  should  think  must  have  been 
in  his  time  a  most  dictatorial  person.  He  will  not  admit 
anything,  and  downfaces  everybody.  If  he  can't  out-argue 
them  he  bullies  them,  and  then  takes  their  silence  for  agree- 
ment with  his  views.  Lucy  was  looking  sweetly  pretty  in 
her  white  lawn  frock ;  she  has  got  a  beautiful  colour  since 
she  has  been  here.  I  noticed  that  the  old  men  did  not  lose 
any  time  in  coming  up  and  sitting  near  her  when  we  sat 
down.  She  is  so  sweet  with  old  people ;  I  think  they  all  fell 
in  love  with  her  on  the  spot.  Even  my  old  man  succumbed 
and  did  not  contradict  her,  but  gave  me  double  share  in- 
stead. I  got  him  on  the  subject  of  the  legends,  and  he  went 
off  at  once  into  a  sort  of  sermon.  I  must  try  to  remember 
it  and  put  it  down  : — 

*'It  be  all  fool-talk,  lock,  stock,  and  barrel ;  that's  what  it 
be,  an'  nowt  else.  These  bans  an'  wafts  an'  boh-ghosts  an' 
barguests  an'  bogles  an'  all  anent  them  is  only  fit  to  set 
bairns  an'  dizzy  women  a-belderin'.  They  be  nowt  but  air- 


blebs.  They,  an'  all  grims  an'  signs  an'  warnin's,  be  all  in^ 
vented  by  parsons  an'  illsome  beuk-bodies  an'  railway 
touters  to  skeer  an'  scunner  hafflin's,  an'  to  get  folks  to  do 
somethin'  that  they  don't  other  incline  to.  It  makes  me  fret- 
ful to  think  o'  them.  Why,  it's  them  that,  not  content  with 
printin'  lies  on  paper  an'  preachin'  them  out  of  pulpits,  does 
want  to  be  cuttin'  them  on  the  tombstones.  Look  here  all 
around  you  in  what  airt  ye  will ;  all  them  steans,  holdin'  up 
their  heads  as  well  as  they  can  out  of  their  pride,  is  acant — 
simply  tumblin'  down  with  the  weight  o'  the  lies  wrote  on 
them,  'Here  lies  the  body'  or  'Sacred  to  the  memory'  wrote 
on  all  of  them,  an'  yet  in  nigh  half  of  them  there  bean't 
no  bodies  at  all ;  an'  the  memories  of  them  bean't  cared  a 
pinch  of  snuff  about,  much  less  sacred.  Lies  all  of  them, 
nothin'  but  lies  of  one  kind  or  another !  My  gog,  but  it'll  be 
a  quare  scowderment  at  the  Day  of  Judgment  when  they 
come  tumblin'  up  in  their  death-sarks,  all  jouped  together 
an'  try'm  to  drag  their  tombsteans  with  them  to  prove  how 
good  they  was ;  some  of  them  trimmlin'  and  ditherin',  with 
their  hands  that  dozzened  an'  slippy  from  lyin'  in  the  sea 
that  they  can't  even  keep  their  grup  o'  them." 

I  could  see  from  the  old  fellow's  self-satisfied  air  and 
the  way  in  which  he  looked  round  for  the  approval  of  his 
cronies  that  he  was  ''showing  off,"  so  I  put  in  a  word  to 
keep  him  going : — 

*'Oh,  Mr.  Swales,  you  can't  be  serious.  Surely  these 
tombstones  are  not  all  wrong?" 

"Yabblins!  There  may  be  a  poorish  few  not  wrong, 
savin'  where  they  make  out  the  people  too  good ;  for  there 
be  folk  that  do  think  a  balm-bowl  be  like  the  sea,  if  only  it 
be  their  own.  The  whole  thing  be  only  lies.  Now  look  you 
here;  you  come  here  a  stranger,  an'  you  see  this  kirk- 
garth."  I  nodded,  for  I  thought  it  better  to  assent,  though 
I  did  not  quite  understand  his  dialect.  I  knew  it  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  church.  He  went  on :  "And  you  con- 
sate  that  all  these  steans  be  aboon  folk  that  be  happed  here, 
snod  an'  snog?"  I  assented  again.  "Then  that  be  just  where 
the  lie  comes  in.  Why,  there  be  scores  of  these  lay-beds 
that  be  toom  as  old  Dun's  'bacca-box  on  Friday  night."  He 
nudged  one  of  his  companions,  and  they  all  laughed.  "And 


my  gog!  how  could  they  be  otherwise?  Look  at  that  one, 
the  aftest  abaft  the  bier-bank:  read  it!"  I  went  over  and 
read : — 

''Edward  Spencelagh,  master  mariner,  murdered  by  pi- 
rates off  the  coast  of  Andres,  April,  1854,  set.  30."  When  I 
came  back  Mr.  Swales  went  on : — 

''Who  brought  him  home,  I  wonder,  to  hap  him  here? 
Murdered  off  the  coast  of  Andres !  an*  you  consated  his 
body  lay  under  I  Why,  I  could  name  ye  a  dozen  whose 
bones  lie  in  the  Greenland  seas  above" — he  pointed  north- 
wards— "or  where  the  currents  may  have  drifted  them. 
There  be  the  steans  around  ye.  Ye  can,  with  your  young 
eyes,  read  the  small-print  of  the  lies  from  here.  This 
Braithwaite  Lowrey — I  knew  his  father,  lost  in  the  Lively 
off  Greenland  in  '20;  or  Andrew  Woodhouse,  drowned  in 
the  same  seas  in  i  yy/ ;  or  John  Paxton,  drowned  off  Cape 
Farewell  a  year  later ;  or  old  John  Rawlings,  whose  grand- 
father sailed  with  me,  drowned  in  the  Gulf  of  Finland  in 
'50.  Do  ye  think  that  all  these  men  will  have  to  make  a 
rush  to  Whitby  when  the  trumpet  sounds?  I  have  me 
antherums  aboot  it !  I  tell  ye  that  when  they  got  here  they'd 
he  jommlin'  an'  jostlin'  one  another  that  way  that  it  'ud  be 
a  fight  up  on  the  ice  in  the  old  days,  when  we'd  be  at  one 
another  from  daylight  to  dark,  an'  tryin'  to  tie  up  our  cuts 
by  the  light  of  the  aurora  borealis."  This  was  evidently 
local  pleasantry,  for  the  old  man  cackled  over  it,  and  his 
cronies  joined, in  with  gusto. 

"But,"  I  said,  "surely  you  are  not  quite  correct,  for  you 
start  on  the  assumption  that  all  the  poor  people,  or  their 
spirits,  will  have  to  take  their  tombstones  with  them  on  the 
Day  of  Judgment.  Do  you  think  that  will  be  really  neces- 

"Well,  what  else  be  they  tombstones  for?  Answer  me 
that,  miss !" 

"To  please  their  relatives,  I  suppose." 

"To  please  their  relatives,  you  suppose!"  This  he  said 
with  intense  scorn.  "How  will  it  pleasure  their  relatives  to 
know  that  lies  is  wrote  over  them,  and  that  everybody  ir* 
the  place  knows  that  they  be  lies?"  He  pointed  to  a  stone 
at  our  feet  which  had  been  laid  down  as  a  slab,  on  which 


the  seat  was  rested,  close  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  "Read  the 
lies  on  that  thruff-stean,"  he  said.  The  letters  were  upside 
down  to  me  from  where  I  sat,  but  Lucy  was  more  opposite 
to  them,  so  she  leant  over  and  read : — 

"Sacred  to  the  memory  of  George  Canon,  who  died,  in 
the  hope  of  a  glorious  resurrection,  on  July,  29,  1873,  fall- 
ing from  the  rocks  at  Kettleness.  This  tomb  was  erected 
by  his  sorrowing  mother  to  her  dearly  beloved  son.  *He 
was  the  only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  widow." 
Really,  Mr.  Swales,  I  don't  see  anything  very  funny  in 
that !"  She  spoke  her  comment  very  gravely  and  somewhat 

"Ye  don't  see  aught  funny !  Ha !  ha !  But  that's  because 
ye  don't  gawm  the  sorrowin'  mother  was  a  hell-cat  that 
hated  him  because  he  was  acrewk'd — a  regular  lamiter  he 
was — an'  he  hated  her  so  that  he  committed  suicide  in  order 
that  she  mightn't  get  an  insurance  she  put  on  his  life.  He 
blew  nigh  the  top  of  his  head  ofif  with  an  old  musket  that 
they  had  for  scarin'  the  crows  with.  'Twarn't  for  crows 
then,  for  it  brought  the  clegs  and  the  dowps  to  him.  That's 
the  way  he  fell  off  the  rocks.  And,  as  to  hopes  of  a  glori- 
ous resurrection,  I've  often  heard  him  say  masel'  that  he 
hoped  he'd  go  to  hell,  for  his  mother  was  so  pious  that 
she'd  be  sure  to  go  to  heaven,  an'  he  didn't  want  to  addle 
where  she  was.  Now  isn't  that  stean  at  any  rate" — he  ham- 
mered it  with  his  stick  as  he  spoke — "a  pack  of  lies?  and 
won't  it  make  Gabriel  keckle  when  Geordie  .comes  pantin' 
up  the  grees  with  the  tombstean  balanced  on  his  hump,  and 
asks  it  to  be  took  as  evidence !" 

I  did  not  know  what  to  say,  but  Lucy  turned  the  conver- 
sation as  she  said,  rising  up : — 

"Oh,  why  did  you  tell  us  of  this  ?  It  is  my  favourite  seat, 
and  I  cannot  leave  it ;  and  now  I  find  I  must  go  on  sitting 
over  the  grave  of  a  suicide." 

"That  won't  harm  ye,  my  pretty ;  an'  it  may  make  poor 
Geordie  gladsome  to  have  so  trim  a  lass  sittin'  on  his  lap. 
That  won't  hurt  ye.  Why,  I've  sat  here  off  an'  on  for  nigh 
twenty  years  past,  an'  it  hasn't  done  me  no  harm.  Don't  ye 
fash  about  them  as  lies  under  ye,  or  that  doesn'  lie  there 
either !  It'll  be  time  for  ye  to  be  getting  scart  when  ye  see 


the  tombsteans  all  run  away  with,  and  the  place  as  bare  as 
a  stubble-field.  There's  the  clock,  an'  I  must  gang.  My 
service  to  ye,  ladies  !"  And  off  he  hobbled. 

Lucy  and  I  sat  awhile,  and  it  was  all  so  beautiful  before 
us  that  we  took  hands  as  we  sat ;  and  she  told  me  all  over 
again  about  Arthur  and  their  coming  marriage.  That  made 
me  just  a  little  heart-sick,  for  I  haven't  heard  from  Jona- 
than for  a  whole  month. 

The  same  day.  I  came  up  here  alone,  for  I  am  very  sad. 
There  was  no  letter  for  me.  I  hope  there  cannot  be  any- 
thing the  matter  with  Jonathan.  The  clock  has  just  struck 
nine.  I  see  the  lights  scattered  all  over  the  town,  sometimes 
in  rows  where  the  streets  are,  and  sometimes  singly ;  they 
run  right  up  the  Esk  and  die  away  in  the  curve  of  the  val- 
ley.  To  my  left  the  view  is  cut  oft*  by  a  black  line  of  roof 
of  the  old  house  next  the  abbey.  The  sheep  and  lambs  are 
bleating  in  the  fields  away  behind  me,  and  there  is  a  clat- 
ter of  a  donkey's  hoofs  up  the  paved  road  below.  The  band 
on  the  pier  is  playing  a  harsh  waltz  in  good  time,  and  fur- 
ther along  the  quay  there  is  a  Salvation  Army  meeting  in  a 
back  street.  Neither  of  the  bands  hears  the  other,  but  up 
here  I  hear  and  see  them  both.  I  wonder  where  Jor.athan 
is  and  if  he  is  thinking  of  me !  I  wish  he  were  here. 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

J  June. — The  case  of  Renfield  grows  more  interesting 
the  more  I  get  to  understand  the  man.  He  has  certain 
qualities  very  largely  developed ;  selfishness,  secrecy,  and 
purpose.  I  wish  I  could  get  at  what  is  the  object  of  the  lat- 
ter. He  seems  to  have  some  settled  scheme  of  his  own,  but 
what  it  is  I  do  not  know.  His  redeeming  quality  is  a  love 
of  animals,  though,  indeed,  he  has  such  curious  turns  in  it 
that  I  sometimes  imagine  he  is  only  abnormally  cruel.  His 
pets  are  of  odd  sorts.  Just  now  his  hobby  is  catching  flies. 
He  has  at  present  such  a  quantity  that  I  have  had  myself  to 
expostulate.  To  my  astonishment,  he  did  not  break  out  into 
a  fury,  as  I  expected,  but  took  the  matter  in  simple  serious- 
ness. He  thought  for  a  moment,  and  then  said :  "May  I 


have  three  days?  I  shall  clear  them  away."  Of  course,  I 
said  that  would  do.  I  must  watch  him. 

i8  June. — He  has  turned  his  mind  now  to  spiders,  and 
ha«  got.  several  very  big  fellows  in  a  box.  He  keeps  feeding 
them  with  his  flies,  and  the  number  of  the  latter  is  becom- 
ing sensibly  diminished,  although  he  has  used  half  his  food 
in  attract uig  more  flies  from  outside  to  his  room. 

I  July. — His  spiders  are  now  becoming  as  great  a  nui- 
sance as  his  flies,  and  to-day  I  told  him  that  he  must  get  rid 
of  them.  He  looked  very  sad  at  this,  so  I  said  that  he  must 
clear  out  some  of  them,  at  all  events.  He  cheerfully 
acquiesced  in  this,  and  I  gave  him  the  same  time  as  before 
for  reduction.  He  disgusted  me  much  while  with  him,  for 
when  a  horrid  blow-fly,  bloated  with  some  carrion  food, 
buzzed  into  the  room,  he  caught  it,  held  it  exultantly  for  a 
few  moments  between  his  finger  and  thumb,  and,  before  I 
knew  what  he  was  going  to  do,  put  it  in  his  mouth  and  ate 
it.  I  scolded  him  for  it,  but  he  argued  quietly  that  it  was 
very  good  and  very  wholesome ;  that  it  was  life,  strong  life, 
and  gave  life  to  him.  This  gave  me  an  idea,  or  the  rudiment 
of  one.  I  must  watch  how  he  gets  rid  of  his  spiders.  He  has 
evidently  some  deep  problem  in  his  mind,  for  he  keeps  a 
little  note-book  in  which  he  is  always  jotting  down  some- 
thing. Whole  pages  of  it  are  filled  with  masses  of  figures, 
generally  single  numbers  added  up  in  batches,  and  then  the 
totals  added  in  batches  again,  as  though  he  were  "focus- 
sing" some  account,  as  the  auditors  put  it. 

8  July. — There  is  a  method  in  his  madness,  and  the  rudi- 
mentary idea  in  my  mind  is  growing.  It  will  be  a  whole 
idea  soon,  and  then,  oh,  unconscious  cerebration !  you  will 
have  to  give  the  wall  to  your  conscious  brother.  I  kept  away 
from  my  friend  for  a  few  days,  so  that  I  might  notice  if 
there  were  any  change.  Things  remain  as  they  were  except 
that  he  has  parted  with  some  of  his  pets  and  got  a  new  one. 
He  has  managed  to  get  a  sparrow,  and  has  already  par- 
tially tamed  it.  His  means  of  taming  is  simple,  for  already 
the  spiders  have  diminished.  Those  that  do  remain,  how- 


ever,  are  well  fed,  for  he  still  brings  in  the  flies  by  tempt- 
ing them  with  his  food. 

/p  July. — We  are  progressing.  My  friend  has  now  a 
whole  colony  of  sparrows,  and  his  flies  and  spiders  are  al- 
most obliterated.  When  I  came  in  he  ran  to  me  and  said  he 
wanted  to  ask  me  a  great  favour — a  very,  very  great  fav- 
our ;  and  as  he  spoke  he  fawned  on  me  like  a  dog.  I  asked 
him  what  it  was,  and  he  said,  with  a  sort  of  rapture  in  his 
voice  and  bearing: — 

"A  kitten,  a  nice  little,  sleek  playful  kitten,  that  I  can 
play  with,  and  teach,  and  feed — and  feed — and  feed!"  I 
was  not  unprepared  for  this  request,  for  I  had  noticed  how 
his  pets  went  on  increasing  in  size  and  vivacity,  but  I  did 
not  care  that  his  pretty  family  of  tame  sparrows  should  be 
wiped  out  in  the  same  manner  as  the  flies  and  the  spiders ; 
so  I  said  I  would  see  about  it,  and  asked  him  if  he  would 
not  rather  have  a  cat  than  a  kitten.  His  eagerness  betrayed 
him  as  he  answered  : — 

"Oh,  yes,  I  would  like  a  cat!  I  only  asked  for  a  kitten 
lest  you  should  refuse  me  a  cat.  No  one  would  refuse  me  a 
kitten,  would  they?"  I  shook  my  head,  and  said  that  at 
present  I  feared  it  would  not  be  possible,  but  that  I  would 
see  about  it.  His  face  fell,  and  I  could  see  a  warning  of 
danger  in  it,  for  there  was  a  sudden  fierce,  sidelong  look 
which  meant  killing.  The  man  is  an  undeveloped  homicidal 
maniac.  I  shall  test  him  with  his  present  craving  and  see 
how  it  will  work  out ;  then  I  shall  know  more. 

10  p.  m. — I  have  visited  him  again  and  found  him  sitting 
in  a  corner  brooding.  When  I  came  in  he  threw  himself  on 
his  knees  before  me  and  implored  me  to  let  him  have  a  cat ; 
that  his  salvation  depended  upon  it.  I  was  firm,  however, 
and  told  him  that  he  could  not  have  it,  whereupon  he  went 
without  a  word,  and  sat  down,  gnawing  his  fingers,  in  the 
corner  where  I  had  found  him.  I  shall  see  him  in  the  morn- 
ing early. 

20  July. — Visited  Renfield  very  early,  before  the  attend- 
ant went  his  rounds.  Found  him  up  and  humming  a  tune. 


He  was  spreading  out  his  sugar,  which  he  had  saved,  in 
the  window,  and  was  manifestly  beginning  his  fly-catching 
again ;  and  beginning  it  cheerfully  and  with  a  good  grace.  I 
looked  around  for  his  birds,  and  not  seeing  them,  asked 
him  where  they  were.  He  replied,  without  turning  round, 
that  they  had  all  flown  away.  There  were  a  few  feathers 
about  the  room  and  on  his  pillow  a  drop  of  blood.  I  said 
nothing,  but  went  and  told  the  keeper  to  report  to  me  if 
there  were  anything  odd  about  him  during  the  day. 

II  a.  m. — The  attendant  has  just  been  to  me  to  say  that 
Renfield  has  been  very  sick  and  has  disgorged  a  whole  lot 
of  feathers.  "My  belief  is,  doctor,"  he  said,  "that  he  has 
eaten  his  birds,  and  that  he  just  took  and  ate  them  raw!" 

II  p.  m. — I  gave  Renfield  a  strong  opiate  to-night, 
enough  to  make  even  him  sleep,  and  took  away  his  pocket- 
book  to  look  at  it.  The  thought  that  has  been  buzzing  about 
my  brain  lately  is  complete,  and  the  theory  proved.  My 
homicidal  maniac  is  of  a  peculiar  kind.  I  shall  have  to  in- 
vent a  new  classification  for  him,  and  call  him  a  zoopha- 
gous  (life-eating)  maniac;  what  he  desires  is  to  absorb  as 
many  lives  as  he  can,  and  he  has  laid  himself  out  to  achieve 
it  in  a  cumulative  w^ay.  He  gave  many  flies  to  one  spider 
and  many  spiders  to  one  bird,  and  then  wanted  a  cat  to  eat 
the  many  birds.  What  would  have  been  his  later  steps?  It 
would  almost  be  worth  while  to  complete  the  experiment. 
It  might  be  done  if  there  were  only  a  sufficient  cause.  Men 
sneered  at  vivisection,  and  yet  look  at  its  results  to-day ! 
Why  not  advance  science  in  its  most  difficult  'and  vital- 
aspect — the  knowledge  of  the  brain  ?  Had  I  even  the  secret 
of  one  such  mind — did  I  hold  the  key  to  the  fancy  of  even 
one  lunatic — I  might  advance  my  own  branch  of  science  to 
a  pitch  compared  with  which  Burdon-Sanderson's  physi- 
ology or  Ferrier's  brain-knowledge  would  be  as  nothing. 
If  only  there  were  a  sufficient  cause !  I  must  not  think  too 
much  of  this,  or  I  may  be  tempted ;  a  good  cause  might 
turn  the  scale  with  me,  for  may  not  I  too  be  of  an  excep- 
tional brain,  congenitally  ? 

How  well  the  man  reasoned ;  lunatics  always  do  within 


their  own  scope.  I  wonder  at  how  many  lives  he  values  a 
man,  or  if  at  only  one.  He  has  closed  the  account  most  ac- 
curately, and  to-day  begun  a  new  record.  How  many  of  us 
begin  a  new  record  with  each  day  of  our  lives  ? 

To  me  it  seems  only  yesterday  that  my  whole  life  ended 
with  my  new  hope,  and  that  truly  I  began  a  new  record. 
So  it  will  be  until  the  Great  Recorder  sums  me  up  and 
closes  my  ledger  account  with  a  balance  to  profit  or  loss. 
Oh,  Lucy,  Lucy,  I  cannot  be  angry  with  you,  nor  can  I  be 
angry  with  my  friend  whose  happiness  is  yours;  but  I 
must  only  wait  on  hopeless  and  work.  Work !  work ! 

If  I  only  could  have  as  strong  a  cause  as  my  poor  mad 
friend  there — a  good,  unselfish  cause  to  make  me  work — 
that  would  be  indeed  happiness. 

Mina  Murray's  Journal. 

26  July. — I  am  anxious,  and  it  soothes  me  to  express 
myself  here ;  it  is  like  whispering  to  one's  self  and  Hstening 
at  the  same  time.  And  there  is  also  something  about  the 
shorthand  symbols  that  makes  it  dififerent  from  writing.  I 
am  unhappy  about  Lucy  and  about  Jonathan.  I  had  not 
heard  from  Jonathan  for  some  time,  and  was  very  con- 
cerned ;  but  yesterday  dear  Mr.  Hawkins,  who  is  always 
so  kind,  sent  me  a  letter  from  him.  I  had  written  asking 
him  if  he  had  heard,  and  he  said  the  enclosed  had  just  been 
received.  It  is  only  a  line  dated  from  Castle  Dracula,  and 
says  that  he  is  just  starting  for  home.  That  is  not  like 
Jonathan ;  I  do  not  understand  it,  and  it  makes  me  uneasy. 
Then,  too,  Lucy,  although  she  is  so  well,  has  lately  taken  to 
her  old  habit  of  walking  in  her  sleep.  Her  mother  has 
spoken  to  me  about  it,  and  we  have  decided  that  I  am  to 
lock  the  door  of  our  room  every  night.  Mrs.  Westenra  has 
got  an  idea  that  sleep-walkers  always  go  out  on  roofs  of 
houses  and  along  the  edges  of  clififs  and  then  get  suddenly 
wakened  and  fall  over  with  a  despairing  cry  that  echoes  all 
over  the  place.  Poor  dear,  she  is  naturally  anxious  about 
Lucy,  and  she  tells  me  that  her  husband,  Lucy's  father,  had 
the  same  habit ;  that  he  would  get  up  in  the  night  and  dress 
himself  and  go  out,  if  he  were  not  stopped.  Lucy  is  to  be 


married  in  the  autumn,  and  she  is  already  planning  out  her 
dresses  and  how  her  house  is  to  be  arranged.  I  sympathise 
with  her,  for  I  do  the  same,  only  Jonathan  and  I  will  start 
in  life  in  a  very  simple  way,  and  shall  have  to  try  to  make 
both  ends  meet.  Mr.  Holmwood — he  is  the  Hon.  Arthur 
Holmwood,  only  son  of  Lord  Godalming — is  coming  up, 
here  very  shortly — as  soon  as  he  can  leave  tow^n,  for  his 
father  is  not  very  well,  and  I  think  dear  Lucy  is  counting 
the  moments  till  he  comes.  She  wants  to  take  him  up  to  the 
seat  on  the  churchyard  cliff  and  show  him  the  beauty  of 
Whitby.  I  daresay  it  is  the  waiting  which  disturbs  her ;  she 
will  be  all  right  when  he  arrives. 

2y  July. — No  news  from  Jonathan.  I  am  getting  quite 
uneasy  about  him,  though  why  I  should  I  do  not  know ;  but 
I  do  wish  that  he  would  write,  if  it  were  only  a  single  line. 
Lucy  walks  more  than  ever,  and  each  night  I  am  awakened 
by  her  moving  about  the  room.  Fortunately,  the  weather  is 
so  hot  that  she  cannot  get  cold ;  but  still  the  anxiety  and 
the  perpetually  being  wakened  is  beginning  to  tell  on  me, 
and  I  am  getting  nervous  and  wakeful  myself.  Thank  God, 
Lucy's  health  keeps  up.  Mr.  Holmwood  has  been  suddenly 
called  to  Ring  to  see  his  father,  who  has  been  taken  seri- 
ously ill.  Lucy  frets  at  the  postponement  of  seeing  him,  but 
it  does  not  touch  her  looks ;  she  is  a  trifle  stouter,  and  her 
cheeks  are  a  lovely  rose-pink.  She  has  lost  that  anaemic  look 
which  she  had.  I  pray  it  will  all  last. 

5  August. — Another  week  gone,  and  no  news  from  Jona- 
than, not  even  to  Mr.  Hawkins,  from  whom  I  have  heard. 
Oh,  I  do  hope  he  is  not  ill.  He  surely  would  have  written. 
I  look  at  that  last  letter  of  his,  but  somehow  it  does  not  sat- 
isfy me.  It  does  not  read  like  him,  and  yet  it  is  his  writing. 
There  is  no  mistake  of  that.  Lucy  has  not  walked  much  in 
her  sleep  the  last  week,  but  there  is  an  odd  concentration 
about  her  which  I  do  not  understand ;  even  in  her  sleep  she 
seems  to  be  watching  me.  She  tries  the  door,  and  finding  it 
locked,  goes  about  the  room  searching  for  the  key. 

6  August. — Another  three  days,  and  no  news.  This  sus- 
pense is  getting  dreadful.  If  I  only  knew  where  to  write  to 


or  where  to  go  to,  I  should  feel  easier ;  but  no  one  has 
heard  a  word  of  Jonathan  since  that  last  letter.  I  must  only 
pray  to  God  for  patience.  Lucy  is  more  excitable  than  ever, 
but  is  otherwise  well.  Last  night  was  very  threatening,  and 
the  fishermen  say  that  we  are  in  for  a  storm.  I  must  try  to 
watch  it  and  learn  the  weather  signs.  To-day  is  a  grey  day, 
and  the  sun  as  I  write  is  hidden  in  thick  clouds,  high  over 
Kettleness.  Everything  is  grey — except  the  green  grass, 
which  seems  like  emerald  amongst  it;  grey  earthy  rock; 
grey  clouds,  tinged  with  the  sunburst  at  the  far  edge,  hang 
over  the  grey  sea,  into  which  the  sand-points  stretch  like 
^rey  fingers.  The  sea  is  tumbling  in  over  the  shallows  and 
the  sandy  fiats  with  a  roar,  muffled  in  the  sea-mists  drift- 
ing inland.  The  horizon  is  lost  in  a  grey  mist.  All  is  vast- 
ness ;  the  clouds  are  piled  up  like  giant  rocks,  and  there  is 
a  "brool"  over  the  sea  that  sounds  like  some  presage  of 
doom.  Dark  figures  are  on  the  beach  here  and  there,  some- 
times half  shrouded  in  the  mist,  and  seem  "men  like  trees 
walking."  The  fishing-boats  are  racing  for  home,  and  rise 
and  dip  in  the  ground  swell  as  they  sweep  into  the  har- 
bour, bending  to  the  scuppers.  Here  comes  old  Mr.  Swales. 
He  is  making  straight  for  me,  and  I  can  see,  by  the  way 
he  lifts  his  hat,  that  he  wants  to  talk.   .   .  . 

I  have  been  quite  touched  by  the  change  in  the  poor  old 
man.  When  he  sat  down  beside  me,  he  said  in  a  very  gen- 
tle way : —  , 

*T  want  to  say  something  to  you,  miss."  I  could  see  he 
was  not  at  ease,  so  I  took  his  poor  old  wrinkled  hand  in 
mine  and  asked  him  to  speak  fully ;  so  he  said,  leaving  his 
hand  in  mine  : — 

"I'm  afraid,  my  deary,  that  I  must  have  shocked  you  by 
all  the  wicked  things  I've  been  say  in'  about  the  dead,  and 
such  like,  for  weeks  past ;  but  I  didn't  mean  them,  and  I 
want  ye  to  remember  that  when  I'm  gone.  We  aud  folks 
that  be  daffled,  and  with  one  foot  abaft  the  krok-hooal, 
don't  altogether  like  to  think  of  it,  and  we  don't  want  to 
feel  scart  of  it;  an'  that's  why  I've  took  to  makin'  light  of 
it,  so  that  I'd  cheer  up  my  own  heart  a  bit.  But,  Lord  love 
ye,  miss,  I  ain't  afraid  of  dyin',  not  a  bit ;  only  I  don't 

82  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

want  to  die  if  I  can  help  it.  My  time  must  be  nigh  at  hand 
now,  for  I  be  aud,  and  a  hundred  years  is  too  much  for 
any  man  to  expect ;  and  I'm  so  nigh  it  that  the  Aud  Man 
is  already  whettin'  his  scythe.  Ye  see,  I  can't  get  out  o*  the 
habit  of  caffin'  about  it  all  at  once ;  the  chaf ts  will  wag  as 
they  be  used  to.  Some  day  soon  the  Angel  of  Death  will 
sound  his  trumpet  for  me.  But  don't  ye  dooal  an'  greet,  my 
deary !" — for  he  saw  that  I  was  crying — ''if  he  should 
come  this  very  night  I'd  not  refuse  to  answer  his  call.  For 
life  be,  after  all,  only  a  waitin'  for  somethin'  else  than  what 
we're  doin' ;  and  death  be  all  that  we  can  rightly  depend 
on.  But  I'm  content,  for  it's  comin'  to  me,  my  deary,  and 
comin'  quick.  It  may  be  comin'  while  we  be  lookin'  and 
wonderin'.  May  be  it's  in  that  wind  out  over  the  sea  that's 
bringin'  with  it  loss  and  wreck,  and  sore  distress,  and  sad 
hearts.  Look!  look!"  he  cried  suddenly.  "There's  some- 
thing in  that  wind  and  in  the  hoast  beyont  that  sounds,  and 
looks,  and  tastes,  and  smells  like  death.  It's  in  the  air;  I 
feel  it  comin'.  Lord,  make  me  answer  cheerful  when  my 
call  comes !"  He  held  up  his  arms  devoutly,  and  raised 
his  hat.  His  mouth  moved  as  though  he  were  praying. 
After  a  few  minutes'  silence,  he  got  up,  shook  hands  with 
me,  and  blessed  me,  and  said  good-bye,  and  hobbled  off. 
It  all  touched  me,  and  upset  me  very  much. 

I  was  glad  when  the  coastguard  came  along,  with  his 
spy-glass  under  his  arm.  He  stopped  to  talk  with  me,  as 
he  alway ;  does,  but  all  the  time  kept  looking  at  a  strange 

"I  can't  make  her  out,"  he  said ;  "she's  a  Russian,  by  the 
look  of  her ;  but  she's  knocking  about  in  the  queerest  way. 
She  doesn't  know  her  mind  a  bit ;  she  seems  to  see  the 
storm  coming,  but  can't  decide  whether  to  run  up  north  in 
the  open,  or  to  put  in  here.  Look  there  again !  She  is 
steered  mighty  strangely,  for  she  doesn't  mind  the  hand 
on  the  wheel ;  changes  about  with  every  puff  of  wind. 
We'll  hear  more  of  her  before  this  time  to-morrow." 



(Pasted  in  Mina  Murray's  Journal.) 

From  a  Correspondent. 

One  of  the  greatest  and  suddenest  storms  on  record  has 
just  been  experienced  here,  with  results  both  strange  and 
unique.  The  weather  had  been  somewhat  sultry,  but  not  to 
any  degree  uncommon  in  the  month  of  August.  Saturday' 
evening  was  as  fine  as  was  ever  known,  and  the  great 
body  of  holiday-makers  laid  out  yesterday  for  visits  to 
Mulgrave  Woods,  Robin  Hood's  Bay,  Rig  Mill,  Runswick. 
Staithes,  and  the  various  trips  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Whitby.  The  steamers  Emma  and  Scarborough  made  tripr* 
up  and  down  the  coast,  and  there  was  an  unusual  amount 
of  "tripping"  both  to  and  from  Whitby.  The  day  was  un- 
usually fine  till  the  afternoon,  when  some  of  the  gossips 
who  frequent  the  East  Cliff  churchyard,  and  from  that 
commanding  eminence  watch  the  wide  sweep  of  sea  visible 
to  the  north  and  east,  called  attention  to  a  sudden  show  of 
"mares'-tails"  high  in  the  sky  to  the  north-west.  The  wind 
was  then  blowing  from  the  south-west  in  the  mild  degree 
which  in  barometrical  language  is  ranked  "No.  2 :  light 
breeze."  The  coastguard  on  duty  at  once  made  report,  and 
one  old  fisherman,  who  for  more  than  half  a  century  has 
kept  watch  on  weather  signs  from  the  East  Cliff,  foretold 
in  an  emphatic  manner  the  coming  of  a  sudden  storm.  The 
approach  of  sunset  was  so  very  beautiful,  so  grand  in  its 
masses  of  splendidly-coloured  clouds,  that  there  was  quite 
an  assemblage  on  the  walk  along  the  cliff  in  the  old  church- 
yard to  enjoy  the  beauty.  Before  the  sun  dipped  below  the 
black  mass  of  Kettleness,  standing  boldly  athwart  the 
western  sky,  its  downward  way  was  marked  by  myriad 



clouds  of  every  sunset-colour — aflame,  purple,  pink,  green, 
violet,  and  all  the  tints  of  gold ;  with  here  and  there  masses 
not  large,  but  of  seemingly  absolute  blackness,  in  all  sorts 
of  shapes,  as  w^ell  outlined  as  colossal  silhouettes.  The  ex- 
perience was  not  lost  on  the  painters,  and  doubtless  some 
of  the  sketches  of  the  'Trelude  to  the  Great  Storm"  will 
grace  the  R.  A.  and  R.  I.  walls  in  May  next.  More  than 
one  captain  made  up  his  mind  then  and  there  that  his 
"cobble"  or  his  "mule,"  as  they  term  the  different  classes 
of  boats,  would  remain  in  the  harbour  till  the  storm  had 
passed.  The  wind  fell  away  entirely  during  the  evening, 
and  at  midnight  there  was  a  dead  calm,  a  sultry  heat,  and 
that  prevailing  intensity  which,  on  the  approach  of  thun- 
der, affects  persons  of  a  sensitive  nature.  There  were  but 
few  lights  in  sight  at  sea,  for  even  the  coasting  steamers, 
which  usually  "hug"  the  shore  so  closely,  kept  well  to  sea- 
ward, and  but  few  fishing-boats  were  in  sight.  The  only  sail 
noticeable  was  a  foreign  schooner  with  all  sails  set,  which 
was  seemingly  going  westwards.  The  foolhardiness  or  ig- 
norance of  her  officers  was  a  prolific  theme  for  comment 
whilst  she  remained  in  sight,  and  efforts  were  made  to  sig- 
nal her  to  reduce  sail  in  face  of  her  danger.  Before  the 
night  shut  down  she  was  seen  with  sails  idly  flapping  as 
she  gently  rolled  on  the  undulating  swell  of  the  sea, 

"As  idle  as  a  painted  ship  upon  a  painted  ocean." 

Shortly  before  ten  o'clock  the  stillness  of  the  air  grevr 
quite  oppressive,  and  the  silence  was  so  marked  that  the 
bleating  of  a  sheep  inland  or  the  barking  of  a  dog  in  the 
town  was  distinctly  heard,  and  the  band  on  the  pier,  with 
its  lively  French  air,  was  like  a  discord  in  the  great  har- 
mony of  nature's  silence.  A  little  after  midnight  came  a 
strange  sound  from  over  the  sea,  and  high  overhead  the 
air  began  to  carrj  a  strange,  faint,  hollow  booming. 

Then  without  warning  the  tempest  broke.  With  a  rapid- 
ity which,  at  the  time,  seemed  incredible,  and  even  after- 
wards is  impossible  to  realize,  the  whole  aspect  of  nature 
at  once  became  convulsed.  The  waves  rose  in  growing  fury, 
each  overtopping  its  fellow,  till  in  a  very  few  minutes  the 


lately  glassy  sea  was  like  a  roaring  and  devouring  monster. 
White-crested  waves  beat  madly  on  the  level  sands  and 
rushed  up  the  shelving  cliffs ;  others  broke  over  the  piers, 
and  with  their  spume  swept  the  lanthorns  of  the  light- 
houses which  rise  from  the  end  of  either  pier  of  Whitby 
Harbour.  The  wind  roared  like  thunder,  and  blew  with 
such  force  that  it  was  with  difficulty  that  even  strong  men 
kept  their  feet,  or  clung  with  grim  clasp  to  the  iron  stan- 
chions. It  was  found  necessary  to  clear  the  entire  piers 
from  the  mass  of  onlookers,  or  else  the  fatalities  of  the 
night  would  have  been  increased  manifold.  To  add  to  the 
difficulties  and  dangers  of  the  time,  masses  of  sea-fog  came 
drifting  inland — white,  wet  clouds,  which  swept  by  in 
ghostly  fashion,  so  dank  and  damp  and  cold  that  it  needed 
but  little  effort  of  imagination  to  think  that  the  spirits  of 
those  lost  at  sea  were  touching  their  living  brethren  with 
the  clammy  hands  of  death,  and  many  a  one  shuddered  as 
the  wreaths  of  sea-mist  swept  by.  At  times  the  mist  cleared, 
and  the  sea  for  some  distance  could  be  seen  in  the  glare  of 
the  lightning,  which  now  came  thick  and  fast,  followed  by 
such  sudden  peals  of  thunder  that  the  whole  sky  overhead 
seemed  trembling  under  the  shock  of  the  footsteps  of  the. 

Some  of  the  scenes  thus  revealed  were  of  immeasura- 
ble grandeur  and  of  absorbing  interest — the  sea,  running 
mountains  high,  threw  skywards  with  each  wave  mighty 
masses  of  white  foam,  which  the  tempest  seemed  to  snatch 
at  and  whirl  away  into  space ;  here  and  there  a  fishing-boat, 
with  a  rag  of  sail,  running  madly  for  shelter  before  the 
blast ;  now  and  again  the  white  wings  of  a  storm-tossed 
sea-bird.  On  the  summit  of  the  East  Qiff  the  new  search- 
light was  ready  for  experiment,  but  had  not  yet  been  tried. 
The  officers  in  charge  of  it  got  it  into  working  order,  and 
in  the  pauses  of  the  inrushing  mist  swept  with  it  the  sur- 
face of  the  sea.  Once  or  twice  its  service  was  most  effect- 
ive, as  when  a  fishing-boat,  with  gunwale  under  water, 
rushed  into  the  harbour,  able,  by  the  guidance  of  the  shel- 
tering light,  to  avoid  the  danger  of  dashing  against  the 
piers.  As  each  boat  achieved  the  safety  of  the  port  there 
was  a  shout  of  joy  from  the  mass  of  people  on  shore,  a 


shout  which  for  a  moment  seemed  to  cleave  the  gale  and 
was  then  swept  away  in  its  rush. 

Before  long  the  searchlight  discovered  some  distance 
away  a  schooner  with  all  sails  set,  apparently  the  same  ves- 
sel which  had  been  noticed  earlier  in  the  evening.  The 
wind  had  by  this  time  backed  to  the  east,  and  there  was  a 
shudder  amongst  the  watchers  on  the  -cliff  as  they  realized 
fhe  terrible  danger  in  which  she  now  was.  Between  her  and 
the  port  lay  the  great  flat  reef  on  which  so  many  good  ships 
have  from  time  to  time  suffered,  and,  with  the  wind  blow- 
ing from  its  present  quarter,  it  would  be  quite  impossible 
that  she  should  fetch  the  entrance  of  the  harbour.  It  was 
now  nearly  the  hour  of  high  tide,  but  the  waves  were  so 
great  that  in  their  troughs  the  shallows  of  the  shore  were 
almost  visible,  and  the  schooner,  with  all  sails  set,  was  rush- 
ing with  such  speed  that,  in  the  words  of  one  old  salt,  "she 
must  fetch  up  somewhere,  if  it  was  only  in  hell."  Then 
came  another  rush  of  sea-fog,  greater  than  any  hitherto — ^a 
mass  of  dank  mist,  which  seemed  to  close  on  all  things  like 
a  grey  pall,  and  left  available  to  men  only  the  organ  of 
hearing,  for  the  roar  of  the  tempest,  and  the  crash  of  the 
thunder,  and  the  booming  of  the  mighty  billows  came 
through  the  damp  oblivion  even  louder  than  before.  The 
rays  of  the  searchlight  were  kept  fixed  on  the  harbour 
mouth  across  the  East  Pier,  where  the  shock  was  expected, 
and  men  waited  breathless.  The  wind  suddenly  shifted  to 
the  north-east,  and  the  remnant  of  the  sea-fog  melted  in 
the  blast ;  and  then,  mirahile  dictu,  between  the  piers,  leap- 
ing from  wave  to  wave  as  it  rushed  at  headlong  speed, 
swept  the  strange  schooner  before  the  blast,  with  all  sail 
5et,  and  gained  the  safety  of  the  harbour.  The  searchlight 
followed  her,  and  a  shudder  ran  through  all  who  saw  her, 
for  lashed  to  the  helm  was  a  corpse,  with  drooping  head, 
which  swung  horribly  to  and  fro  at  each  motion  of  the 
ship.  No  other  form  could  be  seen  on  deck  at  all.  A  great 
awe  came  on  all  as  they  realised  that  the  ship,  as  if  by  a 
miracle,  had  found  the  harbour,  unsteered  save  by  the  hand 
of  a  dead  man !  However,  all  took  place  more  quickly  than 
it  takes  to  write  these  words.  The  schooner  paused  not,  but 
rushing  across  the  harbour,  pitched  herself  on  that  ac- 


cumulation  of  sand  and  gravel  washed  by  many  tides  and 
many  storms  into  the  south-east  corner  of  the  pier  jutting- 
under  the  East  Cliff,  known  locally  as  Tate  Hill  Pier. 

There  was  of  course  a  considerable  concussion  as  the 
vessel  drove  up  on  the  sand  heap.  Every  spar,  rope,  and 
stay  was  strained,  and  some  of  the  "top-hammer"  came 
crashing  down.  But,  strangest  of  all,  the  very  instant  the 
shore  was  touched,  an  immense  dog  sprang  up  on  deck 
from  below,  as  if  shot  up  by  the  concussion,  and  running 
forward,  jumped  from  the  bow  on  the  sand.  Making 
straight  for  the  steep  cliff,  where  the  churchyard  hangs 
over  the  laneway  to  the  East  Pier  so  steeply  that  some  of 
the  flat  tombstones — "thruff-steans"  or  "through-stones," 
as  they  call  them  in  the  Whitby  vernacular — ^actually  pro- 
ject over  where  the  sustaining  cliff  has  fallen  away,  it  dis- 
appeared in  the  darkness,  which  seemed  intensified  just 
beyond  the  focus  of  the  searchlight. 

It  so  happened  that  there  was  no  one  at  the  moment  on 
Tate  Hill  Pier,  as  all  those  whose  houses  are  in  close 
proximity  were  either  in  bed  or  were  out  on  the  heights 
above.  Thus  the  coastguard  on  duty  on  the  eastern  side  of 
the  harbour,  who  at  once  ran  down  to  the  little  pier,  was 
the  first  to  climb  on  board.  The  men  working  the  search- 
light, after  scouring  the  entrance  of  the  harbour  without 
seeing  anything,  then  turned  the  light  on  the  derelict  and 
kept  it  there.  The  coastguard  ran  aft,  and  when  he  came 
beside  the  wheel,  bent  over  to  examine  it,  and  recoiled  at 
once  as  though  under  some  sudden  emotion.  This  seemed 
to  pique  general  curiosity,  and  quite  a  number  of  people 
began  to  run.  It  is  a  good  way  round  from  the  West  Cliff 
by  the  Drawbridge  to  Tate  Hill  Pier,  but  your  correspond- 
ent is  a  fairly  good  runner,  and  came  well  ahead  of  the 
crowd.  When  I  arrived,  however,  I  found  already  assem- 
bled on  the  pier  a  crowd,  whom  the  coastguard  and 
police  refused  to  allow  to  come  on  board.  By  the  courtesy 
of  the  chief  boatman,  I  was,  as  your  correspondent,  per- 
mitted to  climb  on  deck,  and  was  one  of  a  small  group  who 
saw  the  dead  seaman  whilst  actually  lashed  to  the  wheeL 

It  was  no  wonder  that  the  coastguard  was  surprised,  or 
even  awed,  for  not  often  can  such  a  sight  have  been  seen. 


The  man  was  simply  fastened  by  his  hands,  tied  one  over 
the  other,  to  a  spoke  of  the  wheel.  Between  the  inner  hand 
and  the  wood  was  a  crucifix,  the  set  of  beads  on  which  it 
was  fastened  being  around  both  wrists  and  wheel,  and  all 
kept  fast  by  the  binding  cords.  The  poor  fellow  may  have 
been  seated  at  one  time,  but  the  flapping  and  buffeting  of 
the  sails  had  worked  through  the  rudder  of  the  wheel  and 
dragged  him  to  and  fro,  so  that  the  cords  with  which  he 
was  tied  had  cut  the  flesh  to  the  bone.  Accurate  note  was 
made  of  the  state  of  things,  and  a  doctor — Surgeon  J.  M. 
Caff'yn,  of  33,  East  Elliot  Place — who  came  immediately 
after  me,  declared,  after  making  examination,  that  the  man 
must  have  been  dead  for  quite  two  days.  In  his  pocket  was 
a  bottle,  carefully  corked,  empty  save  for  a  little  roll  of 
paper,  which  proved  to  be  the  addendum  to  the  log.  The 
coastguard  said  the  man  must  have  tied  up  his  own  hands, 
fastening  the  knots  with  his  teeth.  The  fact  that  a  coast- 
guard was  the  first  on  board  may  save  some  complications, 
later  on,  in  the  Admiralty  Court;  for  coastguards  cannot 
claim  the  salvage  which  is  the  right  of  the  first  civilian  en- 
tering on  a  derelict.  Already,  however,  the  legal  tongues 
are  wagging,  and  one  young  law  student  is  loudly  asserting 
that  the  rights  of  the  owner  are  already  completely  sacri- 
ficed, his  property  being  held  in  contravention  of  the  stat- 
utes of  mortmain,  since  the  tiller,  as  emblemship,  if  not 
proof,  of  delegated  possession,  is  held  in  a  dead  hand.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  the  dead  steersman  has  been  reverently 
removed  from  the  place  where  he  held  his  honourable 
watch  and  ward  till  death — a  steadfastness  as  noble  as  that 
of  the  young  Casablanca — and  placed  in  the  mortuary  to 
await  inquest. 

Already  the  sudden  storm  is  passing,  and  its  fierceness 
is  abating ;  crowds  are  scattering  homeward,  and  the  sky 
is  beginning  to  redden  over  the  Yorkshire  wolds.  I  shall 
send,  in  time  for  your  next  issue,  further  details  of  the 
derelict  ship  which  found  her  way  so  miraculously  into 
harbour  in  the  storm. 


p  August. — The  sequel  to  the  strange  arrival  of  the  dere- 
lict in  the  storm  last  night  is  almost  more  startling  than 


the  thing  itself.  It  turns  out  that  the  schooner  is  a  Russian 
from  Varna,  and  is  called  the  Demeter.  She  is  almost  en- 
tirely in  ballast  of  silver  sand,  with  only  a  small  amount  of 
cargo — a  number  of  great  wooden  boxes  filled  with  mould. 
This  cargo  was  consigned  to  a  Whitby  solicitor,  Mr.  S.  F. 
Billington,  of  7,  The  Crescent,  who  this  morning  went 
aboard  and  formally  took  possession  of  the  goods  con- 
signed to  him.  The  Russian  consul,  too,  acting  for  the  char- 
ter-party, took  formal  possession  of  the  ship,  and  paid  all 
harbour  dues,  etc.  Nothing  is  talked  about  here  to-day  ex- 
cept the  strange  coincidence ;  the  officials  of  the  Board  of 
Trade  have  been  most  exacting  in  seeing  that  every  compli- 
ance has  been  made  with  existing  regulations.  As  the  matter 
is  to  be  a  ''nine  days'  wonder,"  they  are  evidently  deter- 
mined that  there  shall  be  no  cause  of  after  complaint.  A  good 
deal  of  interest  was  abroad  concerning  the  dog  which  landed 
when  the  ship  struck,  and  more  than  a  few  of  the  members 
of  the  S.  P.  C.  A.,  which  is  very  strong  in  Whitby,  have 
tried  to  befriend  the  animal.  To  the  general  disappoint- 
ment, however,  it  was  not  to  be  found ;  it  seems  to  have 
disappeared  entirely  from  the  town.  It  may  be  that  it  was 
frightened  and  made  its  way  on  to  the  moors,  where  it  is 
still  hiding  in  terror.  There  are  some  who  look  with  dread 
on  such  a  possibility,  lest  later  on  it  should  in  itself  be- 
come a  danger,  for  it  is  evidently  a  fierce  brute.  Early  this 
morning  a  large  dog,  a  half-bred  mastiff  belonging  to  a 
coal  merchant  close  to  Tate  Hill  Pier,  was  found  dead  in 
the  roadway  opposite  to  its  master's  yard.  It  had  been 
fighting,  and  manifestly  had  had  a  savage  opponent,  for 
its  throat  was  torn  away,  and  its  belly  was  slit  open  as  if 
with  a  savage  claw. 

Later. — By  the  kindness  of  the  Board  of  Trade  in- 
spector, I  have  been  permitted  to  look  over  the  log-book  of 
the  Demeter,  which  was  in  order  up  to  within  three  days, 
but  contained  nothing  of  special  interest  except  as  to  facts 
of  missing  men.  The  greatest  interest,  however,  is  with  re- 
gard to  the  paper  found  in  the  bottle,  which  was  to-day 
produced  at  the  inquest ;  and  a  more  strange  narrative  than 
the  two  between  them  unfold  it  has  not  been  my  lot  to 


come  across.  As  there  is  no  motive  for  concealment,  I  am 
permitted  to  use  them,  and  accordingly  send  you  a  rescript, 
simply  omitting  technical  details  of  seamanship  and  super- 
cargo. It  almost  seems  as  though  the  captain  had  been 
seized  with  some  kind  of  mania  before  he  had  got  well  into 
blue  water,  and  that  this  had  developed  persistently 
throughout  the  voyage.  Of  course  my  statement  must  be 
taken  cuin  grano,  since  I  am  writing  from  the  dictation  of 
a.  clerk  of  the  Russian  consul,  who  kindly  translated  for 
me,  time  being  short. 


Varna  to  Whitby. 

Written  i8  July,  things  so  strange  happening,  that  I  sliall 
keep  accurate  yiote  henceforth  till  we  land. 

On  6  July  we  finished  taking  in  cargo,  silver  sand  and 
boxes  of  earth.  At  noon  set  sail.  East  wind,  fresh.  Crew, 
five  hands  .  .  .  two  mates,  cook,  and  myself  (captain). 

On  II  July  at  dawn  entered  Bosphorus.  Boarded  by 
Turkish  Customs  officers.  Backsheesh.  All  correct.  Under 
way  at  4  p.  m. 

On  12  July  chrough  Dardanelles.  More  Customs  officers 
and  flagboat  of  guarding  squadron.  Backsheesh  again. 
Work  of  officers  thorough,  but  quick.  Want  us  off  soon.  At 
dark  passed  into  Archipelago. 

On  13  July  passed  Cape  Matapan.  Crew  dissatisfied 
about  something.  Seemed  scared,  but  would  not  speak  out. 

On  14  July  was  somewhat  anxious  about  crew.  Men  all 
steady  fellows,  who  sailed  with  me  before.  Mate  could  not 
make  out  what  was  wrong ;  they  only  told  him  there  was 
something ,  and  crossed  theniielves.  Mate  lost  temper  with 
one  of  them  that  day  and  struck  him.  Expected  fierce  quar- 
rel, but  all  was  quiet. 


On  16  July  mate  reported  in  the  morning  that  one  of 
crew,  Petrofsky,  was  missing.  Could  not  account  for  it. 
Took  larboard  watch  eight  bells  last  night;  was  relieved 
by  Abramoff,  but  did  not  go  to  bunk.  Men  more  downcast 
than  ever.  All  said  they  expected  something  of  the  kind, 
but  would  not  say  more  than  there  was  something  aboard. 
Mate  getting  very  impatient  with  them ;  feared  some  trou- 
ble ahead. 

On  17  July,  yesterday,  one  of  the  men,  Olgaren,  came  to 
my  cabin,  and  in  an  awestruck  way  confided  to  me  that  he 
thought  there  was  a  strange  man  aboard  the  ship.  He  said 
that  in  his  watch  he  had  been  sheltering  behind  t.he  deck- 
house, as  there  was  a  rain-storm,  when  he  saw  a  tall,  thin 
man,  who  was  not  like  any  of  the  crew,  come  up  the 
companion-way,  and  go  along  the  deck  forward,  and  dis- 
appear. He  followed  cautiously,  but  when  ke  got  to  bows 
found  no  one,  and  the  hatchways  were  all  closed.  He  was 
in  a  panic  of  superstitious  fear,  and  I  am  afraid  the  panic 
may  spread.  To  allay  it,  I  shall  to-day  search  entire  ship 
carefully  from  stem  to  stern. 

Later  in  the  day  I  got  together  the  whole  crew,  and  told 
them,  as  they  evidently  thought  there  was  some  one  in  the 
ship,  we  would  search  from  stem  to  stern.  First  mate 
angry ;  said  it  was  folly,  and  to  yield  to  such  foolish  ideas 
would  demoralise  the  men;  said  he  would  engage  to  keep 
them  out  of  trouble  with  a  handspike.  I  let  him  take  the 
helm,  while  the  rest  began  thorough  search,  all  keeping 
abreast,  with  lanterns :  we  left  no  corner  unsearched.  As 
there  were  only  the  big  wooden  boxes,  there  were  no  odd 
corners  where  a  man  could  hide.  Men  much  relieved  when 
search  over,  and  went  back  to  work  cheerfully.  First  mate 
scowled,  but  said  nothing. 

22  July. — Rough  weather  last  three  days,  and  all  hands 
busy  with  sails — no  time  to  be  frightened.  Men  seem  to 
have  forgotten  their  dread.  Mate  cheerful  again,  and  all  on 
good  terms.  Praised  men  for  work  in  bad  weather.  Passed 
Gibraltar  and  out  through  Straits.  All  well. 


2^  July. — ^There  seems  some  doom  over  this  ship.  Al- 
ready a  hand  short,  and  entering  on  the  Bay  of  Biscay  with 
wild  weather  ahead,  and  yet  last  night  another  man  lost — 
disappeared.  Like  the  first,  he  came  off  his  watch  and  was 
not  seen  again.  Men  all  in  a  panic  of  fear;  sent  a  round 
robin,  asking  to  have  double  watch,  as  they  fear  to  be 
alone.  Mate  angry.  Fear  there  will  be  some  trouble,  as 
either  he  or  the  men  will  do  some  violence. 

28  July. — Four  days  in  hell,  knocking  about  in  a  sort  of 
maelstrom,  and  the  wind  of  a  tempest.  No  sleep  for  any 
one.  Men  all  worn  out.  Hardly  know  how  to  set  a  w^atch, 
since  no  one  fit  to  go  on.  Second  mate  volunteered  to  steer 
and  watch,  and  let  men  snatch  a  few  hours'  sleep.  Wind 
abating;  seas  still  terrific,  but  feel  them  less,  as  ship  is 

2Q  July. — ^Another  tragedy.  Had  single  watch  to-night, 
as  crew  too  tired  to  double.  When  morning  watch  came  on 
deck  could  find  no  one  except  steersman.  Raised  outcry, 
and  all  came  on  deck.  Thorough  search,  but  no  one  found. 
Are  now  without  second  mate,  and  crew  in  a  panic.  Mate 
and  I  agreed  to  go  armed  henceforth  and  wait  for  any  sign 
of  cause. 

50  July. — Last  night.  Rejoiced  we  are  nearing  England. 
Weather  fine,  all  sails  set.  Retired  worn  out ;  slept  soundly ; 
aw^aked  by  mate  telling  me  that  both  man  of  watch  and 
steersman  missing.  Only  self  and  mate  and  two  hands  left 
to  work  ship. 

I  August. — Two  days  of  fog,  and  not  a  sail  sighted.  Had 
hoped  when  in  the  English  Channel  to  be  able  to  signal  for 
help  or  get  in  somewhere.  Not  having  power  to  work  sails, 
have  to  run  before  wind.  Dare  not  lower,  as  could  not 
raise  them  again.  We  seem  to  be  drifting  to  some  terrible 
doom.  Mate  now  more  demoralised  than  either  of  men.  His 
stronger  nature  seems  to  have  worked  inwardly  against 
himself.  Men  are  beyond  fear,  working  stolidly  and  pa- 
tiently, with  minds  made  up  to  worst.  They  are  Russian, 
he  Roumanian. 


2  August,  midnight. — Woke  up  from  few  minutes'  sleep 
by  hearing  a  cry,  seemingly  outside  my  port.  Could  see 
nothing  in  fog.  Rushed  on  deck,  and  ran  against  mate. 
Tells  me  heard  cry  and  ran,  but  no  sign  of  man  on  watch. 
One  more  gone.  Lord,  help  us !  Mate  says  we  must  be  past 
Straits  of  Dover,  as  in  a  moment  of  fog  lifting  he  saw 
North  Foreland,  just  as  he  heard  the  man  cry  out.  If  so 
we  are  now  off  in  the  North  Sea,  and  only  God  can  guide 
us  in  the  fog,  which  seems  to  move  with  us ;  and  God  seems 
to  have  deserted  us. 

J  August. — At  midnight  I  went  to  relieve  the  man  at  the 
wheel,  and  when  I  got  to  it  found  no  one  there.  The  wind 
was  steady,  and  as  we  ran  before  it  there  was  no  yawing. 
I  dared  not  leave  it,  so  shouted  for  the  mate.  After  a  few 
seconds  he  rushed  up  on  deck  in  his  flannels.  He  looked 
wild-eyed  and  haggard,  and  I  greatly  fear  his  reason  has 
given  way.  He  came  close  to  me  and  whispered  hoarsely, 
with  his  mouth  to  my  ear,  as  though  fearing  the  very  air 
might  hear :  "It  is  here ;  I  know  it,  now.  On  the  watch  last 
night  I  saw  it,  like  a  man,  tall  and  thin,  and  ghastly  pale. 
It  was  in  the  bows,  and  looking  out.  I  crept  behind  It,  and 
gave  It  my  knife ;  but  the  knife  went  through  It,  empty  as 
the  air."  And  as  he  spoke  he  took  his  knife  and  drove  it 
savagely  into  space.  Then  he  went  on :  "But  It  is  here,  and 
I'll  find  It.  It  is  in  the  hold,  perhaps  in  one  of  those  boxes. 
I'll  unscrew  them  one  by  one  and  see.  You  work  the  helm." 
And,  with  a  warning  look  and  his  finger  on  his  lip,  he  went 
below.  There  was  springing  up  a  choppy  wind,  and  I  could 
not  leave  the  helm.  I  saw  him  come  out  on  deck  again  with 
a  tool-chest  and  a  lantern,  and  go  down  the  forward  hatch- 
way. He  is  mad,  stark,  raving  mad,  and  it's  no  use  my  try- 
ing to  stop  him.  He  can't  hurt  those  big  boxes :  they  are 
invoiced  as  "clay,"  and  to  pull  them  about  is  as  harmless 
a  thing  as  he  can  do.  So  here  I  stay,  and  mind  the  helm, 
and  write  these  notes.  I  can  only  trust  in  God  and  wait 
till  the  fog  clears.  Then,  if  I  can't  steer  to  any  harbour  with 
the  wind  that  is,  I  shall  ^ut  down  sails  and  lie  by,  and  sig- 
nal for  help. 


It  is  nearly  all  over  now.  Just  as  I  was  beginning  to  hope 
that  the  mate  would  come  out  calmer — for  I  heard  him 
knocking  away  at  something  in  the  hold,  and  work  is  good 
for  him — there  came  up  the  hatchway  a  sudden,  startled 
scream,  which  made  my  blood  run  cold,  and  up  on  the  deck 
he  came  as  if  shot  from  a  gun — a  raging  madman,  with  his 
eyes  rolling  and  his  face  convulsed  with  fear.  "Save  me! 
save  me !"  he  cried,  and  then  looked  round  on  the  blanket 
of  fog.  His  horror  turned  to  despair,  and  in  a  steady  voice 
he  said :  "You  had  better  come  too,  captain,  before  it  is  too 
late.  He  is  there.  I  know  the  secret  now.  The  sea  will  save 
me  from  Him,  and  it  is  all  that  is  left !"  Before  I  could 
say  a  word,  or  move  forward  to  seize  him,  he  sprang  on 
the  bulwark  and  deliberately  threw  himself  into  the  sea.  I 
suppose  I  know  the  secret  too,  now.  It  was  this  madman 
who  had  got  rid  of  the  men  one  by  one,  and  now  he  has 
followed  them  himself.  God  help  me !  How  am  I  to  account 
for  all  these  horrors  when  I  get  to  port?  When  I  get  to 
port !  Will  that  ever  be  ? 

4  August. — Still  fog,  which  the  sunrise  cannot  pierce.  I 
know  there  is  sunrise  because  I  am  a  sailor,  why  else  I 
know  not.  I  dared  not  go  below,  I  dared  not  leave  the 
helm ;  so  here  all  night  I  stayed,  and  in  the  dimness  of  the 
night  I  saw  It — Him!  God  forgive  me,  but  the  mate  was 
right  to  jump  overboard.  It  was  better  to  die  like  a  man; 
to  die  like  a  sailor  in  blue  water  no  man  can  object.  But  I 
am  captain,  and  I  must  not  leave  my  ship.  But  I  shall  baf- 
fle this  fiend  or  monster,  for  I  shall  tie  my  hands  to  the 
wheel  when  my  strength  begins  to  fail,  and  along  with 
them  I  shall  tie  that  which  He — It ! — dare  not  touch ;  and 
then,  come  good  wind  or  foul,  I  shall  save  my  soul,  and  my 
honour  as  a  captain.  I  am  growing  weaker,  and  the  night  is 
coming  on.  If  He  can  look  me  in  the  face  again,  I  may  not 
have  time  to  act.  ...  If  we  are  wrecked,  mayhap  this 
bottle  may  be  found,  and  those  w^ho  find  it  may  under- 
stand ;  if  not,  .  .  .  well,  then  all  men  shall  know  that  I 
have  been  true  to  my  trust.  God  and  the  Blessed  Virgin 
and  the  saints  help  a  poor  ignorant  soul  trying  to  do  his 
duty.  .  .  . 


Of  course  the  verdict  was  an  open  one.  There  is  no  evi- 
dence to  adduce  ;  and  whether  or  not  the  man  himself  com- 
mitted the  murders  there  is  now  none  to  say.  The  folk  here 
hold  almost  universally  that  the  captain  is  simply  a  hero^ 
and  he  is  to  be  given  a  public  funeral.  Already  it  is  ar- 
ranged that  his  body  is  to  be  taken  with  a  train  of  boats 
up  the  Esk  for  a  piece  and  then  brought  back  to  Tate  Hill 
Pier  and  up  the  abbey  steps ;  for  he  is  to  be  buried  in  the 
churchyard  on  the  cliff.  The  owners  of  more  than  a  hun- 
dred boats  have  already  given  in  their  names  as  wishing  to 
follow  him  to  the  grave. 

No  trace  has  ever  been  found  of  the  great  dog ;  at  which 
there  is  much  mourning,  for,  with  public  opinion  in  its 
present  state,  he  would,  I  believe,  be  adopted  by  the  town. 
To-morrow  will  see  the  funeral;  and  so  will  end  this  one 
more  "mystery  of  the  sea." 

Mina  Murray's  Journal. 

8  August. — Lucy  was  very  restless  all  night,  and  I,  too, 
could  not  sleep.  The  storm  was  fearful,  and  as  it  boomed 
loudly  among  the  chimney-pots,  it  made  me  shudder.  When 
a  sharp  puff  came  it  seemed  to  be  like  a  distant  gun. 
Strangely  enough,  Lucy  did  not  wake ;  but  she  got  up  twice 
and  dressed  herself.  Fortunately,  each  time  I  awoke  in  time 
and  managed  to  undress  her  without  waking  her,  and  got 
her  back  to  bed.  It  is  a  very  strange  thing,  this  sleep- 
walking, for  as  soon  as  her  will  is  thwarted  in  any  physical 
way,  her  intention,  if  there  be  any,  disappears,  and  she 
yields  herself  almost  exactly  to  the  routine  of  her  life. 

Early  in  the  morning  we  both  got  up  and  went  down  to 
the  harbour  to  see  if  anything  had  happened  in  the  night. 
There  were  very  few  people  about,  and  though  the  sun  was 
Dri^ht,  and  the  air  clear  and  fresh,  the  big,  grim-looking' 
waves,  that  seemed  dark  themselves  because  the  foam  that 
topped  them  was  like  snow,  forced  themselves  in  through 
the  narrow  mouth  of  the  harbour — like  a  bullying  man 
going  through  a  crowd.  Somehow  I  felt  glad  that  Jonathan 
was  not  on  the  sea  last  night,  but  on  land.  But,  oh,  is  he 
on  land  or  sea  ?  Where  is  he,  and  how  ?  I  am  getting  fear- 


fully  anxious  about  him.  If  I  only  knew  what  to  do,  and 
could  do  anything ! 

10  August. — The  funeral  of  the  poor  sea-captain  to-day 
was  most  touching.  Every  boat  in  the  harbour  seemed  to  be 
there,  and  the  coffin  was  carried  by  captains  all  the  way 
from  Tate  Hill  Pier  up  to  the  churchyard.  Lucy  came  with 
me,  and  we  went  early  to  our  old  seat,  whilst  the  cortege 
of  boats  went  up  the  river  to  the  Viaduct  and  came  down 
again.  We  had  a  lovely  view,  and  saw  the  procession  nearly 
all  the  way.  The  poor  fellow  was  laid  to  rest  quite  near  our 
seat  so  that  we  stood  on  it  when  the  time  came  and  saw 
everything.  Poor  Lucy  seemed  much  upset.  She  was  rest- 
less and  uneasy  all  the  time,  and  I  cannot  but  think  that 
her  dreaming  at  night  is  telling  on  her.  She  is  quite  odd  in 
one  thing :  she  will  not  admit  to  me  that  there  is  any  cause 
for  restlessness ;  or  if  there  be,  she  does  not  understand  it 
herself.  There  is  an  additional  cause  in  that  poor  old  Mr. 
Swales  was  found  dead  this  morning  on  our  seat,  his  neck 
being  broken.  He  had  evidently,  as  the  doctor  said,  fallen 
back  in  the  seat  in  some  sort  of  fright,  for  there  was  a  look 
of  fear  and  horror  on  his  face  that  the  men  said  made  them 
shudder.  Poor  dear  old  man !  Perhaps  he  had  seen  Death 
with  his  dying  eyes !  Lucy  is  so  sweet  and  sensitive  that 
she  feels  influences  more  acutely  than  other  people  do.  Just 
now  she  was  quite  upset  by  a  little  thing  which  I  did  not 
much  heed,  though  I  am  myself  very  fond  of  animals.  One 
of  the  men  who  came  up  here  often  to  look  for  the  boats 
was  followed  by  his  dog.  The  dog  is  always  with  him. 
They  are  both  quiet  persons,  and  I  never  saw  the  man 
angry,  nor  heard  the  dog  bark.  During  the  service  the  dog 
would  not  come  to  its  master,  who  was  on  the  seat  with  us, 
but  kept  a  few  yards  off,  barking  and  howling.  Its  master 
spoke  to  it  gently,  and  then  harshly,  and  then  angrily ;  but 
it  would  neither  come  nor  cease  to  make  a  noise.  It  was  in 
a  sort  of  fury,  with  its  eyes  savage,  and  all  its  hairs  brist- 
ling out  like  a  cat's  tail  when  puss  is  on  the  war-path. 
Finally  the  man,  too,  got  angry,  and  jumped  down  and 
kicked  the  dog,  and  then  took  it  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck 
and  half  dragged  and  half  threw  it  on  the  tombstone  on 

which  the  seat  is  fixed.  The  moment  it  touched  the  stone 
the  poor  thing  became  quiet  and  fell  all  mto  a  tremble,  it 
did  not  trv  to  get  away,  but  crouched  down,  quivermg 
and  cowering,  and  was  in  such  a  pitiable  state  of  terror 
that  I  tried,  though  without  effect,  to  comfort  it.  Lucy  was 
full  of  pity,  too,  but  she  did  not  attempt  to  touch  the  dog, 
but  looked  at  it  in  an  agonised  sort  of  way.  I  greatly  fear 
that  she  is  too  super-sensitive  a  nature  to  go  through  the 
world  without  trouble.  She  will  be  dreaming  of  this  to- 
night, I  am  sure.  The  whole  agglomeration  of  things— the 
ship  steered  into  port  by  a  dead  man;  his  attitude  tied  to 
the  wheel  with  a  crucifix  and  beads ;  the  touching  funeral; 
the  dog,  now  furious  and  now  in  terror— will  all  attord 

material  for  her  dreams.  u  j  ^-    ^      ,4- 

I  think  it  will  be  best  for  her  to  go  to  bed  tired  out 
physically,  so  I  shall  take  her  for  a  long  walk  by  the  clitfs 
to  Robin  Hood's  Bay  and  back.  She  ought  not  to  have 
much  inclination  for  sleep-walking  then. 

MiNA  Murray's  journal 

Same  day,  ii  o'clock  p.  m. — Oh,  but  I  am  tired!  If  it 
were  not  that  I  had  made  my  diary  a  duty  I  should  not 
open  it  to-night.  We  had  a  lovely  walk.  Lucy,  after  a  while, 
was  in  gay  spirits,  owing,  I  think,  to  some  dear  cows  who 
came  nosing  towards  us  in  a  field  close  to  the  lighthouse, 
and  frightened  the  wits  out  of  us.  I  believe  we  forgot 
everything  except,  of  course,  personal  fear,  and  it  seemed 
to  wipe  the  slate  clean  and  give  us  a  fresh  start.  We  had  a 
capital  "severe  tea"  at  Robin  Hood's  Bay  in  a  sweet  little 
old-fashioned  inn,  with  a  bow-window  right  over  the  sea- 
weed-covered rocks  of  the  strand.  I  believe  we  should  have 
shocked  the  ''New  Woman"  with  our  appetites.  Men  are 
more  tolerant,  bless  them !  Then  we  walked  home  with 
some,  or  rather  many,  stoppages  to  rest,  and  with  our 
hearts  full  of  a  constant  dread  of  wild  bulls.  Lucy  was 
really  tired,  and  we  intended  to  creep  off  to  bed  as  soon  as 
we  could.  The  young  curate  came  in,  however,  and  Mrs. 
Westenra  asked  him  to  stay  for  supper.  Lucy  and  I  had 
both  a  fight  for  it  with  the  dusty  miller ;  I  know  it  was  a 
hard  fight  on  my  part,  and  I  am  quite  heroic.  I  think  that 
some  day  the  bishops  must  get  together  and  see  about 
breeding  up  a  new  class  of  curates,  who  don't  take  supper, 
no  matter  how  they  may  be  pressed  to,  and  who  will  know 
when  girls  are  tired.  Lucy  is  asleep  and  breathing  softly. 
She  has  more  colour  in  her  cheeks  than  usual,  and  looks, 
oh,  so  sweet.  If  Mr.  Holm  wood  fell  in  love  with  her  see- 
ing her  only  in  the  drawing-room,  I  wonder  what  he  would 
say  if  he  saw  her  now.  Some  of  the  "New  Women" 
writers  will  some  day  start  an  idea  that  men  and  women 
should  be  allowed  to  see  each  other  asleep  before  propos- 
ing or  accepting.  But  I  suppose  the  New  Woman  won't 



condescend  in  future  to  accept ;  she  will  do  the  proposing 
herself.  And  a  nice  job  she  will  make  of  it,  too!  There's 
some  consolation  in  that.  I  am  so  happy  to-night,  because 
dear  Lucy  seems  better.  I  really  believe  she  has  turned  the 
corner,  and  that  we  are  over  her  troubles  with  dreaming. 
I  should  be  quite  happy  if  I  only  knew  if  Jonathan  .  .  . 
God  bless  and  keep  him. 

//  August,  s  ^'  "^- — Diary  again.  No  sleep  now,  so  1 
may  as  well  write.  I  am  too  agitated  to  sleep.  We  have  had 
such  an  adventure,  such  an  agonising  experience.  I   fell 
asleep  as  soon  as  I  had  closed  my  diary.  .  .  .  Suddenly  I 
became  broad  awake,  and  sat  up,  with  a  horrible  sense  of 
fear  upon  me,  and  of  some  feeHng  of  emptiness  around 
me.  The  room  was  dark,  so  I  could  not  see  Lucy's  bed ;  I 
stole  across  and  felt  for  her.  The  bed  was  empty.  I  lit  a 
match  and  found  that  she  was  not  in  the  room.  The  door 
was  shut,  but  not  locked,  as  1  had  left  it.  I  feared  to  wake 
her  mother,  who  has  been  more  than  usually  ill  lately,  so 
threw  on  some  clothes  and  got  ready  to  look  for  her.  As 
I  was  leaving  the  room  it  struck  me  that  the  clothes  she 
wore  might  give  me  some  clue  to  her  dreaming  intention. 
Dressing-gown  would  mean  house ;  dress,  outside.  Dress- 
ing-gown and  dress  were  both  in  their  places.   ''Thank 
God,"  I  said  to  myself,  "she  cannot  be  far,  as  she  is  only 
in  her  nightdress."   I   ran  downstairs  and  looked  in  the 
sitting-room.  Not  there!  Then  I  looked  in  all  the  other 
open  rooms  of  the  house,  with  an  ever-growing  fear  chill- 
ing my  heart.  Finally  I  came  to  the  hall  door  and  found 
it  open.  It  was  not  wide  open,  but  the  catch  of  the  lock 
had  not  caught.  The  people  of  the  house  are  careful  to  lock 
the  door  every  night,  so  I   feared  that  Lucy  must  have 
gone  out  as  she  was.  There  was  no  time  to  think  of  what 
might  happen ;  a  vague,  overmastering  fear  obscured  all 
details.  I  took  a  big,  heavy  shawl  and  ran  out.  The  clock 
was  striking  one  as  I  was  in  the  Crescent,  and  there  was 
not  a  soul  in  sight.  I  ran  along  the  North  Terrace,  but 
could  see  no  sign  of  the  white  figure  which  I  expected.  At 
the  edge  of  the  West  Cliff  above  the  pier  I  looked  across 
the  harbour  to  the  East  Cliff,  in  the  hope  or  fear — I  don't 

loo  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

know  which — of  seeing  Lucy  in  our  favourite  seat.  There 
was  a  bright  fuD  moon,  with  heavy  black,  driving  clouds, 
which  threw  the  whole  scene  into  a  fleeting  diorama  of 
light  and  shade  as  they  sailed  across.  For  a  moment  or  two 
I  could  see  nothing,  as  the  shadow  of  a  cloud  obscured  St. 
Mary's  Church  and  all  around  it.  Then  as  the  cloud  passed 
I  could  see  the  ruins  of  the  abbey  coming  into  view ;  and 
as  the  edge  of  a  narrow  band  of  light  as  sharp  as  a  sword- 
cut  moved  along,  the  church  and  the  churchyard  became 
gradually  visible.  Whatever  my  expectation  was,  it  was  not 
disappointed,  for  there,  on  our  favourite  seat,  the  silver 
light  of  the  moon  struck  a  half-reclining  figure,  snowy 
white.  The  coming  of  the  cloud  was  too  quick  for  me  to 
see  much,  for  shadow  shut  down  on  light  almost  imme- 
diately; but  it  seemed  to  me  as  though  something  dark 
stood  behind  the  seat  where  the  white  figure  shone,  and 
bent  over  it.  What  it  was,  whether  man  or  beast,  I  could 
not  tell;  I  did  not  wait  to  catch  another  glance,  but  flew 
down  the  steep  steps  to  the  pier  and  along  by  the  fish- 
market  to  the  bridge,  which  was  the  only  way  to  reach  the 
East  Cliff.  The  town  seemed  as  dead,  for  not  a  soul  did  I 
see ;  I  rejoiced  that  it  was  so,  for  I  wanted  no  witness  of 
poor  Lucy's  condition.  The  time  and  distance  seemed  end- 
less, and  my  knees  trembled  and  my  breath  came  laboured 
as  I  toiled  up  the  endless  steps  to  the  abbey.  I  must  have 
gone  fast,  and  yet  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  my  feet  were 
weighted  with  lead,  and  as  though  every  joint  in  my  body 
were  rusty.  When  I  got  almost  to  the  top  I  could  see  the 
seat  and  the  white  figure,  for  I  was  now  close  enough  to 
distinguish  it  even  through  the  spells  of  shadow.  There  was 
undoubtedly  something,  long  and  black,  bending  over  the 
half-reclining   white    figure.    I    called    in    fright,    "Lucy! 
Lucy!"  and  something  raised  a  head,  and  from  where  I 
was  I  could  see  a  white  face  and  red,  gleaming  eyes.  Lucy 
did  not  answer,  and  I  ran  on  to  the  entrance  of  the  church- 
yard. As  I  entered,  the  church  was  between  me  and  the 
seat,  and  for  a  minute  of  so  I  lost  sight  of  her.  When  I 
came  in  view  again  the  cloud  had  passed,  and  the  moon- 
light struck  so  brilliantly  that  I  could  see  Lucy  half  re- 
clining with  her  head  lying  over  the  back  of  the  seat.  She 


was  quite  alone,  and  there  was  not  a  sign  of  any  living 
thing  about. 

When  I  bent  over  her  I  could  see  that  she  was  still 
asleep.  Her  lips  were  parted,  and  she  was  breathing — not 
softly  as  usual  with  her,  but  in  long,  heavy  gasps,  as 
though  striving  to  get  her  lungs  full  at  every  breath.  As  I 
came  close,  she  put  up  her  hand  in  her  sleep  and  pulled  the 
collar  of  her  nightdress  close  around  her  throat.  Whilst 
she  did  so  there  came  a  little  shudder  through  her,  as 
though  she  felt  the  cold.  I  flung  the  warm  shawl  over  her, 
and  drew  the  edges  tight  round  her  neck,  for  I  dreaded 
lest  she  should  get  some  deadly  chill  from  the  night  air, 
unclad  as  she  was.  I  feared  to  wake  her  all  at  once,  so,  in 
order  to  have  my  hands  free  that  I  might  help  her,  I  fas- 
tened the  shawl  at  her  throat  with  a  big  safety-pin;  but  I 
must  have  been  clumsy  in  my  anxiety  and  pinched  or 
pricked  her  with  it,  for  by-and-by,  when  her  breathing 
became  quieter,  she  put  her  hand  to  her  throat  again  and 
moaned.  When  I  had  her  carefully  wrapped  up  I  put  my 
shoes  on  her  feet,  and  then  began  very  gently  to  v/ake  her. 
At  first  she  did  not  respond;  but  gradually  she  became 
more  and  more  uneasy  in  her  sleep,  moaning  and  sighing 
occasionally.  At  last,  as  time  was  passing  fast,  and,  for 
many  other  reasons,  I  wished  to  get  her  home  at  once,  I 
shook  her  more  forcibly,  till  finally  she  opened  her  eyes 
and  awoke.  She  did  not  seem  surprised  to  see  me,  as,  of 
course,  she  did  not  realise  all  at  once  where  she  was.  Lucy 
always  wakes  prettily,  and  even  at  such  a  time,  when  her 
body  must  have  been  chilled  with  cold,  and  her  mind  some- 
what appalled  at  waking  unclad  in  a  churchyard  at  night, 
she  did  not  lose  her  grace.  She  trembled  a  little,  and  clung 
to  me ;  when  I  told  her  to  come  at  once  with  me  home  she 
rose  without  a  word,  with  the  obedience  of  a  child.  As  we 
passed  along,  the  gravel  hurt  my  feet,  and  Lucy  noticed 
me  wince.  She  stopped  and  wanted  to  insist  upon  my  tak- 
ing my  shoes ;  but  I  would  not.  However,  when  we  got  to 
the  pathway  outside  the  churchyard,  where  there  was  a 
puddle  of  water,  remaining  from  the  storm,  I  daubed  my 
feet  with  mud,  using  each  foot  in  turn  on  the  other,  so  that 

102  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

as  we  went  home,  no  one,  in  case  we  should  meet  ony  one, 
should  notice  my  bare  feet. 

Fortune  favoured  us,  and  we  got  home  without  meeting- 
a  soul.  Once  we  saw  a  man,  who  seemed  not  quite  sober, 
passing  along  a  street  in  front  of  us ;  but  we  hid  in  a  door 
till  he  had  disappeared  up  an  opening  such  as  there  are 
here,  steep  little  closes,  or  "wynds,"  as  they  call  them  in 
Scotland.  J\ly  heart  beat  so  loud  all  the  time  that  some- 
times I  thought  I  should  faint.  I  was  filled  with  anxiety 
about  Lucy,  not  only  for  her  health,  lest  she  should  suffer 
from  the  exposure,  but  for  her  reputation  in  case  the 
story  should  get  wind.  When  we  got  in,  and  had  washed 
our  feet,  and  had  said  a  prayer  of  thankfulness  together, 
I  tucked  her  into  bed.  Before  falling  asleep  she  asked — 
even  implored — me  not  to  say  a  word  to  any  one,  even  her 
mother,  about  her  sleep-walking  adventure.  I  hesitated  at 
first  to  promise;  but  on  thinking  of  the  state  of  her 
mother's  health,  and  how  the  knowledge  of  such  a  thing 
would  fret  her,  and  thinking,  too,  of  how  such  a  story 
might  become  distorted — nay,  infallibly  would — in  case  it 
should  leak  out,  I  thought  it  wiser  to  do  so.  I  hope  I  did 
right.  I  have  locked  the  door,  and  the  key  is  tied  to  my 
wrist,  so  perhaps  I  shall  not  be  again  disturbed.  Lucy  is 
sleeping  soundly ;  the  reflex  of  the  dawn  is  high  and  far 
over  the  sea.  .  .  . 

Same  day,  noon. — All  goes  well.  Lucy  slept  till  I  woke 
her  and  seemed  not  to  have  even  changed  her  side.  The 
adventure  of  the  night  does  not  seem  to  have  harmed  her ; 
on  the  contrary,  it  has  benefited  her,  for  she  looks  better 
this  morning  than  she  has  done  for  weeks.  I  was  sorry  to 
notice  that  my  clumsiness  with  the  safety-pin  hurt  her. 
Indeed,  it  might  have  been  serious,  for  the  skin  of  her 
throat  was  pierced.  I  must  have  pinched  up  a  piece  of  loose 
skin  and  have  transfixed  it,  for  there  are  two  little  red 
points  like  pin-pricks,  and  on  the  band  of  her  nightdress 
was  a  drop  of  blood.  When  I  apologised  and  was  con- 
cerned about  it,  she  laughed  and  petted  me,  and  said  she 
did  not  even  feel  it.  Fortunately  it  cannot  leave  a  scar,  as 
it  is  so  tiny. 


Same  day,  night. — We  passed  a  happy  day.  The  air  was 
clear,  and  the  sun  bright,  and  there  was  a  cool  breeze.  We 
took  our  lunch  to  Mulgrave  Woods,  Mrs.  Westenra  driv- 
ing by  the  road  and  Lucy  and  I  walking  by  the  cliff -path 
and  joining  her  at  the  gate.  I  felt  a  little  sad  myself,  for 
I  could  not  but  feel  how  absolutely  happy  it  would  have 
been  had  Jonathan  been  with  me.  But  there !  I  must  only 
be  patient.  In  the  evening  we  strolled  in  the  Casino  Ter- 
race, and  heard  some  good  music  by  Spohr  and  Mackenzie, 
and  went  to  bed  early.  Lucy  seems  more  restful  than  she 
has  been  for  some  time,  and  fell  asleep  at  once.  I  shall 
lock  the  door  and  secure  the  key  the  same  as  before, 
though  I  do  not  expect  any  trouble  to-night. 

•  12  August. — My  expectations  were  wrong,  for  twice 
during  the  night  I  was  wakened  by  Lucy  trying  to  get 
out.  She  seemed,  even  in  her  sleep,  to  be  a  little  impa- 
tient at  finding  the  door  shut,  and  went  back  to  bed  under 
a  sort  of  protest.  I  woke  with  the  dawn,  and  heard  the 
birds  chirping  outside  of  the  window.  Lucy  woke,  too, 
and,  I  was  glad  to  see,  was  even  better  than  on  the  previous 
morning.  All  her  old  gaiety  of  manner  seemed  to  have 
come  back,  and  she  came  and  snuggled  in  beside  me  and 
told  me  all  about  Arthur.  I  told  her  how  anxious  I  was 
;i])out  Jonathan,  and  then  she  tried  to  comfort  me.  Well, 
she  succeeded  somewhat,  for,  though  sympathy  can't  alter 
tacts,  it  can  help  to  make  them  more  bearable. 

/J  August. — Another  quiet  day,  and  to  bed  with  the 
key  on  my  wrist  as  before.  Again  I  awoke  in  the  night, 
and  found  Lucy  sitting  up  in  bed,  still  asleep,  pointing  to 
the  window.  I  got  up  quietly,  and  pulling  aside  the  blind, 
looked  out.  It  was  brilliant  moonlight,  and  the  soft  effect 
of  the  light  over  the  sea  and  sky — merged  together  in  one 
great,  silent  mystery — was  beautiful  beyond  words.  Be- 
tween me  and  the  moonlight  flitted  a  great  bat,  coming  and 
going  in  great  whirling  circles.  Once  or  twice  it  came 
quite  close,  but  was,  I  suppose,  frightened  at  seeing  me, 
and  flitted  away  across  the  harbour  towards  the  abbey. 
When  T  came  back  from  the  window  Lucy  had  lain  down 

T04  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

again,  and  was  sleeping  peace  fully.  She  did  not  stir  again 
all  night. 

14  August. — On  the  East  Cliff,  reading  and  writing  all 
day.  Lucy  seems  to  have  become  as  much  in  love  with  the 
spot  as  I  am,  and  it  is  hard  to  get  her  away  from  it  when 
it  is  time  to  come  home  for  lunch  or  tea  or  dinner.  This 
afternoon  she  made  a  funny  remark.  We  were  coming 
home  for  dinner,  and  had  come  to  the  top  of  the  steps  up 
from  the  West  Pier  and  stopped  to  look  at  the  view,  as 
we  generally  do.  The  setting  sun,  low  down  in  the  sky, 
was  just  dropping  behind  Kettleness ;  the  red  light  was 
thrown  over  on  the  East  Cliff  and  the  old  abbey,  and 
seemed  to  bathe  everything  in  a  beautiful  rosy  glow.  We 
were  silent  for  a  while,  and  suddenly  Lucy  murmured  as 
\[  to  herself  : — 

"His  red  eyes  again!  They  are  just  the  same."  It  was 
such  an  odd  expression,  coming  apropos  of  nothing,  that 
it  quite  startled  me.  I  slewed  round  a  little,  so  as  to  see 
Lucy  well  without  seeming  to  stare  at  her,  and  saw  that  she 
svas  in  a  half-dreamy  state,  with  an  odd  look  on  her  face 
that  I  could  not  quite  make  out;  so  I  said  nothing,  but 
followed  her  eyes.  She  appeared  to  be  looking  over  at  our 
own  seat,  whereon  was  a  dark  figure  seated  alone.  I  was 
a  little  startled  myself,  for  it  seemed  for  an  instant  as  if 
the  stranger  had  great  eyes  like  burning  flames ;  but  a 
second  look  dispelled  the  illusion.  The  red  sunlight  was 
shining  on  the  windows  of  St.  Mary's  Church  behind  our 
seat,  and  as  the  sun  dipped  there  was  just  sufficient  change 
in  the  refraction  and  reflection  to  make  it  appear  as  if  the 
light  moved.  I  called  Lucy's  attention  to  the  peculiar  effect, 
and  she  became  herself  with  a  start,  but  she  looked  sad 
all  the  same ;  it  may  have  been  that  she  was  thinking  of 
that  terrible  night  up  there.  We  never  refer  to  it ;  so  I  said 
nothing,  and  we  went  home  to  dinner.  Lucy  had  a  headache 
and  went  early  to  bed.  I  saw  her  asleep,  and  went  out  for 
a  little  stroll  myself  ;  I  walked  along  the  cliffs  to  the  west- 
ward, and  was  full  of  sweet  sadness,  for  I  was  thinking  of 
Jonathan.  When  coming  home — it  was  then  bright  moon- 


light,  so  bright  that,  though  the  front  of  our  part  of  the 
Crescent  was  in  shadow,  everything  could  be  well  seen — 
I  threw  a  glance  up  at  our  window,  and  saw  Lucy's  head 
leaning  out.  I  thought  that  perhaps  she  was  looking  out 
for  me,  so  I  opened  my  handkerchief  and  waved  it.  She 
did  not  notice  or  make  any  movement  whatever.  Just  then^ 
the  moonlight  crept  round  an  angle  of  the  building,  and  the 
light  fell  on  the  window.  There  distinctly  was  Lucy  with 
her  head  lying  up  against  the  side  of  the  window-sill  and 
her  eyes  shut.  She  was  fast  asleep,  and  by  her,  seated  on 
the  window-sill,  was  something  that  looked  like  a  good- 
sized  bird.  I  was  afraid  she  might  get  a  chill,  so  I  ran  up- 
stairs, but  as  I  came  into  the  room  she  was  moving  back 
to  her  bed,  fast  asleep,  and  breathing  heavily ;  she  was 
holding  her  hand  to  her  throat,  as  though  to  protect  it 
from  cold. 

I  did  not  wake  her,  but  tucked  her  up  warmly;  I  have 
taken  care  that  the  door  is  locked  and  the  window  securely 

She  looks  so  sweet  as  she  sleeps;  but  she  is  paler  than 
is  her  wont,  and  there  is  a  drawn,  haggard  look  under  her 
eyes  which  I  do  not  like.  I  fear  she  is  fretting  about  some- 
thing. I  wish  I  could  find  out  what  it  is. 

75  August. — Rose  later  than  usual.  Lucy  was  languid 
and  tired,  and  slept  on  after  we  had  been  called.  We  had 
a  happy  surprise  at  breakfast.  Arthur's  father  is  better, 
and  wants  the  marriage  to  come  off  soon.  Lucy  is  full  of 
quiet  joy,  and  her  mother  is  glad  and  sorry  at  once.  Later 
on  in  the  day  she  told  me  the  cause.  She  is  grieved  to  lose 
Lucy  as  her  very  own,  but  she  is  rejoiced  that  she  is  soon 
to  have  some  one  to  protect  her.  Poor  dear,  sweet  lady ! 
She  confided  to  me  that  she  has  got  her  death-warrant. 
She  has  not  told  Lucy,  and  made  me  promise  secrecy ;  her 
doctor  told  her  that  within  a  few  months,  at  most,  she. 
must  die,  for  her  heart  is  weakening.  At  any  time,  even 
now,  a  sudden  shock  would  be  almost  sure  to  kill  her.  Ah, 
we  were  wise  to  keep  from  her  the  affair  of  the  dreadful 
night  of  Lucy's  sleep-walking. 


//  August. — No  diary  for  two  whole  days.  I  have  not 
had  the  heart  to  write.  Some  sort  of  shadowy  pall  seems 
to  be  coming  over  our  happiness.  No  news  from  Jonathan, 
and  Lucy  seems  to  be  growing  weaker,  whilst  her  mother's 
hours  are  numbering  to  a  close.  I  do  not  understand  Lucy's 
fading  away  as  she  is  doing.  She  eats  well  and  sleeps 
well,  and  enjoys  the  fresh  air ;  but  all  the  time  the  roses  in 
her  cheeks  are  fading,  and  she  gets  weaker  and  more 
languid  day  by  day;  at  night  I  hear  her  gasping  as  if  for 
air.  I  keep  the  key  of  our  door  always  fastened  to  my 
wrist  at  night,  but  she  gets  up  and  walks  about  the  room, 
and  sits  at  the  open  window.  Last  night  I  found  her  lean- 
ing out  when  I  woke  up,  and  when  I  tried  to  wake  her  I 
could  not;  she  was  in  a  faint.  When  I  managed  to  re- 
store her  she  was  as  weak  as  water,  and  cried  silently  be- 
tween long,  painful  struggles  for  breath.  When  I  asked  her 
how  she  came  to  be  at  the  window  she  shook  her  head  and 
turned  away.  I  trust  her  feeling  ill  may  not  be  from  that 
unlucky  prick  of  the  safety-pin.  I  looked  at  her  throat  just 
now  as  she  lay  asleep,  and  the  tiny  wounds  seem  not  to 
have  healed.  They  are  still  open,  and,  if  anything,  larger 
than  before,  and  the  edges  of  them  are  faintly  white.  They 
are  like  little  white  dots  with  red  centres.  Unless  they  heal 
within  a  day  or  two,  I  shall  insist  on  the  doctor  seeing 
about  them. 

Letter,  Samuel  F.  Billington  &  Son,  Solicitors,  Whitby,  to 
Messrs.  Carter,  Paterson  &  Co.,  London. 

" ij  August. 
"Dear  Sirs, — 

"Herewith  please  receive  invoice  of  goods  sent  by  Great 
Northern  Railway.  Same  are  to  be  delivered  at  Carfax, 
near  Purfleet,  immediately  on  receipt  at  goods  station 
King's  Cross.  The  house  is  at  present  empty,  but  enclosed 
please  find  keys,  all  of  which  are  labelled. 

"You  will  please  deposit  the  boxes,  fifty  in  number, 
which  form  the  consignment,  in  the  partially  ruined  build- 
ing forming  part  of  the  house  and  marked  'A'  on  rough 
diagram  enclosed.  Your  agent  will  easily  recognise  the 


locality,  as  it  is  the  ancient  chapel  of  the  mansion.  The 
goods  leave  by  the  train  at  9 :  30  to-night,  and  will  be  due 
at  King's  Cross  at  4 :  30  to-morrow  afternoon.  As  our 
client  wishes  the  delivery  made  as  soon  as  possible,  we 
shall  be  obliged  by  your  having  teams  ready  at  King's 
Cross  at  the  time  named  and  forthwith  conveying  the 
goods  to  destination.  In  order  to  obviate  any  delays  pos- 
sible through  any  routine  requirements  as  to  payment  in 
your  departments,  we  enclose  cheque  herewith  for  ten 
pounds  (£10),  receipt  of  which  please  acknowledge. 
Should  the  charge  be  less  than  this  amount,  you  can  re- 
turn balance ;  if  greater,  we  shall  at  once  send  cheque  for 
difference  on  hearing  from  you.  You  are  to  leave  the  keys 
on  coming  away  in  the  main  hall  of  the  house,  where  the 
proprietor  may  get  them  on  his  entering  the  house  by 
means  of  his  duplicate  key. 

"Pray  do  not  take  us  as  exceeding  the  bounds  of  busi- 
nes  courtesy  in  pressing  you  in  all  ways  to  use  the  utmost 

"We  are,  dear  Sirs 
"Faithfully  yours, 
"Samuel  F.  Billington  &  Son." 

Letter,    Messrs.    Carter,    Paterson    &    Co.,    London,    10 
Messrs.  Billington  &  Son,  Whitby. 

"21  August. 
"Dear  Sirs, — 

"We  beg  to  acknowledge  £10  received  and  to  return 
cheque  £1  17s.  gd,  amount  of  overplus,  as  shown  in 
receipted  account  herewith.  Goods  are  delivered  in  exac*"' 
accordance  with  instructions,  and  keys  left  in  parcel  i» 
main  hall,  as  directed. 

"We  are,  dear  ^^rs, 
"Yours  respectfully. 
'  "Pro  Carter,  Paterson  &  Co." 

Mina  Murray's  Journal. 

18  August. — I  am  happy  to-day,  and  write  sitting  on  the 
seat  in  the  churchyard.  Lucy  is  ever  so  much  better.  Last 


night  she  slept  well  all  night,  and  did  not  disturb  me  once. 
The  roses  seem  coming  back  already  to  her  cheeks,  though 
she  is  still  sadly  pale  and  wan-looking.  If  she  were  in  any 
way  anaemic  I  could  understand  it,  but  she  is  not.  She  is 
in  gay  spirits  and  full  of  life  and  cheerfulness.  All  the 
morbid  reticence  seems  to  have  passed  from  her,  and  she 
has  just  reminded  me,  as  if  I  needed  any  reminding,  of 
that  night,  and  that  it  was  here,  on  this  very  seat,  I  found 
her  asleep.  As  she  told  me  she  tapped  playfully  with  the 
heel  of  her  boot  on  the  stone  slab  and  said : — 

"My  poor  little  feet  didn't  make  much  noise  then !  I 
daresay  poor  old  Mr.  Swales  would  have  told  me  that  it 
was  because  I  didn't  want  to  wake  up  Geordie."  As  she 
was  in  such  a  communicative  humour,  I  asked  her  if  she 
had  dreamed  at  all  that  night.  Before  she  answered,  that 
sweet,  puckered  look  came  into  her  forehead,  which 
Arthur — I  call  him  Arthur  from  her  habit — says  he  loves ; 
and,  indeed,  I  don't  wonder  that  he  does.  Then  she  went 
on  in  a  half-dreaming  kind  of  way,  as  if  trying  to  recall 
it  to  herself  : — 

"I  didn't  quite  dream ;  but  it  all  seemed  to  be  real.  I  only 
wanted  to  be  here  in  this  spot — I  don't  know  why,  for  I 
was  afraid  of  something — I  don't  know  what.  I  remember, 
though  I  suppose  I  was  asleep,  passing  through  the  streets 
and  over  the  bridge.  A  fish  leaped  as  I  went  by,  and  I 
leaned  over  to  look  at  it,  and  I  heard  a  lot  of  dogs  howling 
— ^the  whole  town  seemed  as  if  it  must  be  full  of  dogs  all 
howling  at  once — as  I  went  up  the  steps.  Then  I  had  a 
vague  memory  of  something  long  and  dark  with  red  eyes, 
just  as  we  saw  in  the  sunset,  and  something  very  sweet 
and  very  bitter  all  around  me  at  once ;  and  then  I  seemed 
sinking  into  deep  green  water,  and  there  was  a  singing  in 
my  ears,  as  I  have  heard  there  is  to  drowning  men;  and 
then  everything  seemed  passing  away  from  me ;  my  soul 
seemed  to  go  out  from  my  body  and  float  about  the  air. 
I  seem  to  remember  that  once  the  West  Lighthouse  was 
right  under  me,  and  then  there  was  a  sort  of  agonising 
feeling,  as  if  I  were  in  an  earthquake,  and  I  came  back  and 
found  you  shaking  my  body.  I  saw  you  do  it  before  I  felt 


Then  she  began  to  laugh.  It  seemed  a  Httle  uncanny  to 
me,  and  I  Hstened  to  her  breathlessly.  I  did  not  quite  like 
it,  and  thought  it  better  not  to  keep  her  mind  on  the  sub- 
ject, so  we  drifted  on  to  other  subjects,  and  Lucy  was  like 
her  old  self  again.  When  we  got  home  the  fresh  breeze 
had  braced  her  up,  and  her  pale  cheeks  were  really  more 
rosy.  Her  mother  rejoiced  when  she  saw  her,  and  we  all 
spent  a  very  happy  evening  together. 

Jp  August. — Joy,  joy,  joy !  although  not  all  joy.  At  last, 
news  of  Jonathan.  The  dear  fellow  has  been  ill ;  that  is 
why  he  did  not  write.  I  am  not  afraid  to  think  it  or  say 
it,  now  that  I  know.  Mr.  Hawkins  sent  me  on  the  letter, 
and  wrote  himself,  oh,  so  kindly.  I  am  to  leave  in  the 
morning  and  go  over  to  Jonathan,  and  to  help  to  nurse  him 
if  necessary,  and  to  bring  him  home.  Mr.  Hawkins  says  it 
would  not  be  a  bad  thing  if  we  were  to  be  married  out 
there.  I  have  cried  over  the  good  Sister's  letter  till  I  can 
feel  it  wet  against  my  bosom,  where  it  lies.  It  is  of  Jona- 
than, and  must  be  next  my  heart,  for  he  is  in  my  heart. 
My  journey  is  all  mapped  out,  and  my  luggage  ready.  I 
am  only  taking  one  change  of  dress ;  Lucy  will  bring  my 
trunk  to  London  and  keep  it  till  I  send  for  it,  for  it  may 
be  that  ...  I  must  write  no  more ;  I  must  keep  it  to  say 
to  Jonathan,  my  husband.  The  letter  that  he  has  seen  and 
touched  must  comfort  me  till  we  meet. 

Letter,  Sister  Agatha,  Hospital  of  St.  Joseph  and  Ste. 
Mary,  Buda-Pesth,  to  Miss  Wilhelmina  Murray. 

"12-  August. 
"Dear  Madam, — 

"I  write  by  desire  of  Mr.  Jonathan  Harker,  who  is  him- 
self not  strong  enough  to  write,  though  progressing  well, 
thanks  to  God  and  St.  Joseph  and  Ste.  Mary.  He  has  been 
under  our  care  for  nearly  six  weeks,  suffering  from  a  vio- 
lent brain  fever.  He  wishes  me  to  convey  his  love,  and  to 
say  that  by  this  post  I  write  for  him  to  Mr.  Peter  Haw- 
kins, Exeter,  to  say,  with  his  dutiful  respects,  that  he  is 
sorry  for  his  delay,  and  that  all  of  his  work  is  completed. 
He  will  require  some  few  weeks'  rest  in  our  sanatorium  in 

no  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

the  hills,  but  will  then  return.  He  wishes  me  to  say  that  he 
has  not  sufficient  money  with  him,  and  that  he  would  like 
to  pay  for  his  staying  here,  so  that  others  who  need  shall 
not  be  wanting  for  help.  "Believe  me, 

"Yours,  with  sympathy  and  all  blessings, 

"Sister  Agatha. 

"P.  S. — My  patient  being  asleep,  I  open  this  to  let  you 
know  something  more.  He  has  told  me  all  about  you,  and 
that  you  are  shortly  to  be  his  wife.  All  blessings  to  you 
both!  He  has  had  some  fearful  shock — so  says  our  doc- 
tor— and  in  his  delirium  his  ravings  have  been  dreadful : 
of  wolves  and  poison  and  blood ;  of  ghosts  and  demons ; 
and  I  fear  to  say  of  what.  Be  careful  with  him  always  that 
there  may  be  nothing  to  excite  him  of  this  kind  for  a  long 
time  to  come;  the  traces  of  such  an  illness  as  his  do  not 
lightly  die  away.  We  should  have  written  long  ago,  but 
we  knew  nothing  of  his  friends,  and  there  was  on  him 
nothing  that  any  one  could  understand.  He  came  in  the 
train  from  Klausenburg,  and  the  guard  was  told  by  the 
station-master  there  that  he  rushed  into  the  station  shout- 
ing for  a  ticket  for  home.  Seeing  from  his  violent  de- 
meanour that  he  was  English,  they  gave  him  a  ticket  for 
the  furthest  station  on  the  way  thither  that  the  train 

"Be  assured  that  he  is  well  cared  for.  He  has  won  all 
hearts  by  his  sweetness  and  gentleness.  He  is  truly  getting 
on  well,  and  I  have  no  doubt  will  in  a  few  weeks  be  all 
himself.  But  be  careful  of  him  for  safety's  sake.  There  are, 
I  pray  God  and  St.  Joseph  and  Ste.  Mary,  many,  many, 
happy  yf-ars  for  you  both." 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

jp  August. — Strange  and  sudden  change  in  Renfield  last 
night.  About  eight  o'clock  he  began  to  get  excited  and  sniff 
about  as  a  dog  does  when  setting.  The  attendant  was 
struck  by  his  manner,  and  knowing  my  interest  in  him,  en- 
couraged him  to  talk.  He  is  usually  respectful  to  the  atten- 
dant and  at  times  servile;  but  to-night,  the  man  tells  me. 


he  was  quite  haughty.  Would  not  condescend  to  talk  with 
him  at  all.  All  he  would  say  was : — 

"I  don't  want  to  talk  to  you:  you  don't  count  now;  the 
Master  is  at  hand." 

The  attendant  thinks  it  is  some  sudden  form  of  religious 
mania  which  has  seized  him.  If  so,  we  must  look  out  for 
squalls,  for  a  strong  man  with  homicidal  and  religious 
mania  at  once  might  be  dangerous.  The  combination  is  a 
dreadful  one.  At  nine  o'clock  I  visited  him  myself.  His 
attitude  to  me  was  the  same  as  that  to  the  attendant ;  in  his 
sublime  self-feeling  the  difference  between  myself  and 
attendant  seemed  to  him  as  nothing.  It  looks  like  religious 
mania,  and  he  will  soon  think  that  he  himself  is  God.  These 
infinitesimal  distinctions  between  man  and  man  are  too 
paltry  for  an  Omnipotent  Being.  How  these  madmen  give 
themselves  away!  The  real  God  taketh  heed  lest  a  spar- 
row fall ;  but  the  God  created  from  human  vanity  sees  no 
difference  between  an  eagle  and  a  sparrow.  Oh,  if  men 
only  knew ! 

For  half  an  hour  or  more  Renfield  kept  getting  excited 
in  greater  and  greater  degree.  I  did  not  pretend  to  be 
watching  him,  but  I  kept  strict  observation  all  the  same. 
All  at  once  that  shifty  look  came  into  his  eyes  which  we 
always  see  when  a  madman  has  seized  an  idea,  and  with  it 
the  shifty  movement  of  the  head  and  back  which  asylum 
attendants  come  to  know  so  well.  He  became  quite  quiet, 
and  went  and  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  bed  resignedly,  and 
looked  into  space  with  lack-lustre  eyes.  I  thought  I  would 
find  out  if  his  apathy  were  real  or  only  assumed,  and  tried 
to  lead  him  to  talk  of  his  pets,  a  theme  which  had  never 
failed  to  excite  his  attention.  At  first  he  made  no  reply,  but 
at  length  said  testily  : — 

"Bother  them  all !  I  don't  care  a  pin  about  them." 

"What?"  I  said.  "You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  you  don't 
care  about  spiders?"  (Spiders  at  present  are  his  hobby  and 
the  note-book  is  filling  up  with  columns  of  small  figures.) 
To  this  he  answered  enigmatically  : — 

"The  bride-maidens  rejoice  the  eyes  that  wait  the  com- 
ing of  the  bride ;  but  when  the  bride  draweth  nigh,  then 
the  maidens  shine  not  to  the  eyes  that  are  filled." 


He  would  not  explain  himself,  but  remained  obstinately 
seated  on  his  bed  all  the  time  I  remained  with  him. 

I  am  weary  to-night  and  low  in  spirits.  I  cannot  but 
think  of  Lucy,  and  how  different  things  might  have  been. 
If  I  don't  sleep  at  once,  chloral,  the  modern  Morpheus — 
C2  HQ3  O.  H2  O !  I  must  be  careful  not  to  let  it  grow  into 
a  habit.  No,  I  shall  take  none  to-night !  I  have  thought  of 
Lucy,  and  I  shall  not  dishonour  her  by  mixing  the  two.  If 
need  be,  to-night  shall  be  sleepless.  .  .  . 

Later. — Glad  I  made  the  resolution ;  gladder  that  I  kept 
to  it.  I  had  lain  tossing  about,  and  had  heard  the  clock 
strike  only  twice,  when  the  night-watchman  came  to  me, 
sent  up  from  the  ward,  to  say  that  Renfield  had  escaped.  I 
threw  on  my  clothes  and  ran  down  at  once ;  my  patient  is 
too  dangerous  a  person  to  be  roaming  about.  Those  ideas 
of  his  might  work  out  dangerously  with  strangers.  The 
attendant  was  waiting  for  me.  He  said  he  had  seen  him 
not  ten  minutes  before,  seemingly  asleep  in  his  bed,  when 
he  had  looked  through  the  observation-trap  in  the  door. 
His  attention  was  called  by  the  sound  of  the  window  being 
wrenched  out.  He  ran  back  and  saw  his  feet  disappear 
through  the  window,  and  had  at  once  sent  up  for  me.  He 
was  only  in  his  night-gear,  and  cannot  be  far  off.  The 
attendant  thought  it  would  be  more  useful  to  watch  where 
he  should  go  than  to  follow  him,  as  he  might  lose  sight  of 
him  whilst  getting  out  of  the  building  by  the  door.  He  is 
a  bulky  man,  and  couldn't  get  through  the  window.  I  am 
thin,  so,  with  his  aid,  I  got  out,  but  feet  foremost,  and, 
as  we  were  only  a  few  feet  above  ground,  landed  unhurt. 
The  attendant  told  me  the  patient  had  gone  to  the  left,  and 
had  taken  a  straight  line,  so  I  ran  as  quickly  as  I  could. 
As  I  got  through  the  belt  of  trees  I  saw  a  white  figure 
scale  the  high  wall  which  separates  our  grounds  from  those 
of  the  deserted  house. 

I  ran  back  at  once,  told  the  watchman  to  get  three  or 
four  men  immediately  and  follow  me  into  the  grounds  of 
Carfax,  in  case  our  friend  might  be  dangerous.  I  got  a 
ladder  myself,  and  crossing  the  wall,  dropped  down  on  the 
other  side.  I  could  see  Renfield's  figure  just  disappearing 


behind  the  angle  of  the  house,  so  I  ran  after  him.  On  the 
far  side  of  the  house  I  found  him  pressed  close  against  the 
old  ironbound  oak  door  of  the  chapel.  He  was  talking,  ap- 
parently to  some  one,  but  I  was  afraid  to  go  near  enough 
to  hear  what  he  was  saying,  lest  I  might  frighten  him, 
and  he  should  run  off.  Chasing  an  errant  swarm  of  bees 
is  nothing  to  following  a  naked  lunatic,  when  the  fit  of 
escaping  is  upon  him !  After  a  few  minutes,  however,  1 
could  see  that  he  did  not  take  note  of  anything  around 
him,  and  so  ventured  to  draw  nearer  to  him — the  more 
so  as  my  men  had  now  crossed  the  wall  and  were  closing 
him  in.  I  heard  him  say : — 

"I  am  here  to  do  Your  bidding.  Master.  I  am  Your 
slave,  and  You  will  reward  me,  for  I  shall  be  faithful.  I 
have  worshipped  You  long  and  afar  off.  Now  that  You  are 
near,  I  await  Your  commands,  and  You  will  not  pass  me 
by,  will  You,  dear  Master,  in  Your  distribution  of  good 

He  is  a  selfish  old  beggar  anyhow.  He  thinks  of  the 
loaves  and  fishes  even  when  he  believes  he  is  in  a  Real 
Presence.  His  manias  make  a  startling  combination.  When 
we  closed  in  on  him  he  fought  like  a  tiger.  He  is  im- 
mensely strong,  for  he  was  more  like  a  wild  beast  than  n 
man.  I  never  saw  a  lunatic  in  such  a  paroxysm  of  rage 
before ;  and  I  hope  I  shall  not  again.  It  is  a  mercy  that  wc 
have  found  out  his  strength  and  his  danger  in  good  time. 
With  strength  and  determination  like  this,  he  might  have 
done  wild  work  before  he  was  caged.  He  is  safe  now  at 
any  rate.  Jack  Sheppard  himself  couldn't  get  free  from  the 
strait-waistcoat  that  keeps  him  restrained,  and  he's  chained 
to  the  wall  in  the  padded  room.  His  cries  are  at  times  aw- 
ful, but  the  silences  that  follow  are  more  deadly  still,  for 
he  means  murder  in  every  turn  and  movement. 

Just  now  he  spoke  coherent  words  for  the  first  time : — ■ 

"I  shall  be  patient.  Master.  It  is  coming — coming — com 

So  I  took  the  hint,  and  came  too.  I  was  too  excited  t , 
sleep,  but  this  diary  has  quieted  me,  and  I  feel  I  shall  ge> 
some  sleep  to-night. 

Letter,  Mina  Marker  to  Lucy  Westenra. 

*'Biida-Pesth,  24  August. 
"My  dearest  Lucy, — 

**I  know  you  will  be  anxious  to  hear  all  that  has  hap- 
pened since  we  parted  at  the  railway  station  at  Whitby. 
Well,  my  dear,  I  got  to  Hull  all  right,  and  caught  the  boat 
to  Hamburg,  and  then  the  train  on  here.  I  feel  that  I  can 
hardly  recall  anything  of  the  journey,  except  that  I  knew 
I  was  coming  to  Jonathan,  and,  that  as  I  should  have  to 
do  some  nursing,  I  had  better  get  all  the  sleep  I  could.  .  .  . 
I  found  my  dear  one,  oh,  so  thin  and  pale  and  weak- 
looking.  All  the  resolution  has  gone  out  of  his  dear  eyes, 
and  that  quiet  dignity  which  I  told  you  was  in  his  face 
has  vanished.  He  is  only  a  wreck  of  himself,  and  he  does 
not  remember  anything  that  has  happened  to  him  for  a 
long  time  past.  At  least,  he  wants  me  to  believe  so,  and  I 
shall  never  ask.  He  has  had  some  terrible  shock,  and  I 
fear  it  might  tax  his  poor  brain  if  he  were  to  try  to  recall 
it.  Sister  Agatha,  who  is  a  good  creature  and  a  born 
nurse,  tells  me  that  he  raved  of  dreadful  things  whilst  he 
was  off  his  head.  I  wanted  her  to  tell  me  what  they  were ; 
but  she  would  only  cross  herself,  and  say  she  would  never 
tell ;  that  the  ravings  of  the  sick  were  the  secrets  of  God, 
and  that  if  a  nurse  through  her  vocation  should  hear  them, 
she  should  respect  her  trust.  She  is  a  sweet,  good  soul,  and 
the  next  day,  when  she  saw  I  was  troubled,  she  opened  up 
the  subject  again,  and  after  saying  that  she  could  never 
mention  what  my  poor  dear  raved  about,  added :  'I  can  tell 
you  this  much,  my  dear :  that  it  was  not  about  anything 
which  he  has  done  wrong  himself ;  and  you,  as  his  wife  to 
be,  have  no  cause  to  be  concerned.  He  has  not  forgotten 
you  or  what  he  owes  to  you.  His  fear  was  of  great  and 
terrible  things,  which  no  mortal' can  treat  of.'  I  do  believe 

LETTERS,    ETC.  ii^ 

the  dear  soul  thought  I  might  be  jealous  lest  my  poor 
dear  should  have  fallen  in  love  vv^ith  any  other  girl.  The 
idea  of  my  being  jealous  about  Jonathan !  And  yet,  my 
dear,  let  me  whisper,  I  felt  a  thrill  of  joy  through  me  when 
1  knew  that  no  other  woman  was  a  cause  of  trouble.  I  am 
now  sitting  by  his  bedside,  where  I  can  see  his  face  while 
he  sleeps.  He  is  waking!  .  .  . 

"When  he  woke  he  asked  me  for  his  coat,  as  he  wanted 
to  get  something  from  the  pocket ;  I  asked  Sister  Agatha, 
and  she  brought  all  his  things.  I  saw  that  amongst  them 
was  his  notebook,  and  was  going  to  ask  him  to  let  me  look 
at  it — for  I  knew  then  that  I  might  find  some  clue  to  his 
trouble — but  I  suppose  he  must  have  seen  my  wish  in  my 
eyes,  for  he  sent  me  over  to  the  window,  saying  he  wanted 
to  be  quite  alone  for  a  moment.  Then  he  called  me  back, 
and  when  I  came  he  had  his  hand  over  the  note-book,  and 
he  said  to  me  very  solemnly : — 

"  'Wilhelmina' — I  knew  then  that  he  was  in  deadly 
earnest,  for  he  has  never  called  me  by  that  name  since  he 
asked  me  to  marry  him — 'you  know,  dear,  my  ideas  of  the 
trust  between  husband  and  wife :  there  should  be  no  secret, 
no  concealment.  I  have  had  a  great  shock,  and  when  I  try 
to  think  of  what  it  is  I  feel  my  head  spin  round,  and  I  do 
not  know  if  it  was  all  real  or  the  dreaming  of  a  madman. 
You  know  I  have  had  brain  fever,  and  that  is  to  be  mad. 
The  secret  is  here,  and  I  do  not  want  to  know  it.  I  want 
to  take  up  my  life  here,  with  our  marriage.'  For,  my  dear, 
we  had  decided  to  be  married  as  soon  as  the  formalities 
are  complete.  'Are  you  willing,  Wilhelmina,  to  share  my 
ignorance?  Here  is  the  book.  Take  it  and  keep  it,  read  it 
if  you  will,  but  never  let  me  know;  unless,  indeed,  some 
solemn  duty  should  come  upon  me  to  go  back  to  the  bittei 
hours,  asleep  or  awake,  sane  or  mad,  recorded  here.'  He 
fell  back  exhausted,  and  I  put  the  book  under  his  pillow, 
and  kissed  him.  I  have  asked  Sister  Agatha  to  beg  the 
Superior  to  let  our  wedding  be  this  afternoon,  and  am 
waiting  her  reply.  .  .  . 

"She  has  come  and  told  me  that  the  chaplain  of  the 
English  mission  church  has  been  sent  for.  We  are  to  be 

Ii6  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

married    in    an    hour,    or    as    soon    after    as    Jonathan 
awakes.  .  .  . 

"Lucy,  the  time  has  come  and  gone.  I  feel  very  solemn, 
but  very,  very  happy.  Jonathan  woke  a  little  after  the 
hour,  and  all  was  ready,  and  he  sat  up  in  bed,  propped  up 
with  pillows.  He  answered  his  'I  will'  firmly  and  strongly. 
I  could  hardly  speak ;  my  heart  was  so  full  that  even  those 
words  seemed  to  choke  me.  The  dear  sisters  were  so  kind. 
Please  God,  I  shall  never,  never  forget  them,  nor  the  grave 
and  sweet  responsibilities  I  have  taken  upon  me.  I  must 
tell  you  of  my  wedding  present.  When  the  chaplain  and  the 
sisters  had  left  me  alone  with  my  husband — oh,  Lucy,  it 
is  the  first  time  I  have  written  the  words  *my  husband' — 
left  me  alone  with  my  husband,  I  took  the  book  from 
under  his  pillow,  and  wrapped  it  up  in  white  paper,  and 
tied  it  with  a  little  bit  of  pale  blue  ribbon  which  was  round 
my  neck,  and  sealed  it  over  the  knot  with  sealing-wax,  and 
for  my  seal  I  used  my  wedding  ring.  Then  I  kissed  it  and 
showed  it  to  my  husband,  and  told  him  that  I  would  keep 
it  so,  and  then  it  would  be  an  outward  and  visible  sign  for 
us  all  our  lives  that  we  trusted  each  other;  that  I  would 
never  open  it  unless  it  were  for  his  own  dear  sake  or  for 
the  sake  of  some  stern  duty.  Then  he  took  my  hand  in  his, 
and  oh,  Lucy,  it  was  the  first  time  he  took  his  wife's  hand, 
and  said  it  was  the  dearest  thing  in  all  the  wide  world, 
and  that  he  would  go  through  all  the  past  again  to  win  it, 
if  need  be.  The  poor  dear  meant  to  have  said  a  part  of  the 
past,  but  he  cannot  think  of  time  yet,  and  I  shall  not  won- 
der if  at  first  he  mixes  up  not  only  the  month,  but  the 

"Well,  my  dear,  what  could  I  say  ?  I  could  only  tell  him 
that  I  was  the  happiest  woman  in  all  the  wide  world,  and 
that  I  had  nothing  to  give  him  except  myself,  my  life,  and 
my  trust,  and  that  with  these  went  my  love  and  duty  for  all 
the  days  of  my  life.  And,  my  dear,  when  he  kissed  me,  and 
drew  me  to  him  with  his  poor  weak  hands,  it  was  like  a 
vcrry  solem'i  pledge  between  us.  .  .  . 

"Lucy  dear,  do  you  know  why  I  tell  you  all  this?  It  is 
not  only  because  it  is  all  sweet  to  m'^,  but  because  you 

LETTERS,    ETC.  117 

have  been,  and  are,  very  dear  to  me.  It  was  my  privilege 
to  be  your  friend  and  guide  when  you  came  from  the 
schoolroom  to  prepare  for  the  world  of  life.  I  want  you  to 
see  now,  and  with  the  eyes  of  a  very  happy  wife,  whither 
duty  has  led  me ;  so  that  in  your  own  married  life  you  too 
may  be  all  happy  as  I  am.  My  dear,  please  Almighty  God, 
your  life  may  be  all  it  promises :  a  long  day  of  sunshine, 
with  no  harsh  wind,  no  forgetting  duty,  no  distrust.  I 
must  not  wish  you  no  pain,  for  that  can  never  be ;  but  I  do 
hope  you  will  be  always  as  happy  as  I  am  now.  Good-bye, 
my  dear.  I  shall  post  this  at  once,  and,  perhaps,  write  you 
very  soon  again.  I  must  stop,  for  Jonathan  is  waking — } 
must  attend  to  my  husband ! 

"Your  ever-loving 

*'MiNA  Harker/' 

Letter,  Lucy  Westenra  to  Mina  Marker. 

"Whitby,  50  August. 
**My  dearest  Mina, — 

"Oceans  of  love  and  millions  of  kisses,  and  may  you 
soon  be  in  your  own  home  with  your  husband.  I  wish  you 
could  be  coming  home  soon  enough  to  stay  with  us  here. 
The  strong  air  would  soon  restore  Jonathan;  it  has  quite 
restored  me.  I  have  an  appetite  like  a  cormorant,  am  full 
of  life,  and  sleep  well.  You  will  be  glad  to  know  that  I 
have  quite  given  up  walking  in  my  sleep.  I  think  I  have  not 
stirred  out  of  my  bed  for  a  week,  that  is  when  I  once  got 
into  it  at  night.  Arthur  says  I  am  getting  fat.  By  the  way,  I 
forgot  to  tell  you  that  Arthur  is  here.  We  have  such  walks 
and  drives,  and  rides,  and  rowing,  and  tennis,  and  fishing 
together ;  and  I  love  him  more  than  ever.  He  tells  me  that 
he  loves  me  more,  but  I  doubt  that,  for  at  first  he  told  me 
that  he  couldn't  love  me  more  than  he  did  then.  But  this 
is  nonsense.  There  he  is,  calling  to  me.  So  no  more  just 
at  present  from  your  loving 


"P.  S. — Mother  sends  her  love.  She  seems  better,  poor 

"P.  P.  S. — We  are  to  be  married  on  28  September." 


Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

20  August. — The  case  of  Renfield  grows  even  more  in- 
teresting. He  has  now  so  far  quieted  that  there  are  spells 
of  cessation  from  his  passion.  For  the  first  week  after  his 
atttack  he  was  perpetually  violent.  Then  one  night,  just 
as  the  moon  rose,  he  grew  quiet,  and  kept  murmuring  to 
himself:  **Now  I  can  wait;  now  I  can  wait."  The  atten- 
dant came  to  tell  me,  so  I  ran  down  at  once  to  have  a  look 
at  him.  He  was  still  in  the  strait-waistcoat  and  in  the 
padded  room,  but  the  sufifused  look  had  gone  from  his 
face,  and  his  eyes  had  something  of  their  old  pleading — I 
might  almost  say,  ''cringing" — softness.  I  was  satisfied 
with  his  present  condition,  and  directed  him  to  be  relieved. 
The  attendants  hesitated,  but  finally  carried  out  my  wishes 
without  protest.  It  was  a  strange  thing  that  the  patient  had 
humour  enough  to  see  their  distrust,  for,  coming  close  to 
me,  he  said  in  a  whisper,  all  the  while  looking  furtively  at 
them : — 

"They  think  I  could  hurt  you!  Fancy  me  hurting  you! 
The  fools !" 

It  was  soothing,  somehow,  to  the  feelings  to  find  myself 
dissociated  even  in  the  mind  of  this  poor  madman  from 
the  others;  but  all  the  same  I  do  not  follow  his  thought. 
Am  I  to  take  it  that  I  have  anything  in  common  with  him, 
so  that  W3  are,  as  it  were,  to  stand  together;  or  has  he  to 
gain  from  me  some  good  so  stupendous  that  my  well-being 
is  needful  to  him?  I  must  find  out  later  on.  To-night  he 
will  not  speak.  Even  the  oflFer  of  a  kitten  or  even  a  full- 
grown  cat  will  not  tempt  him.  He  will  only  say :  *T  don't 
take  any  stock  in  cats.  I  have  more  to  think  of  now,  and 
I  can  wait ;  I  can  wait." 

After  a  while  I  left  him.  The  attendant  tells  me  that  he 
was  quiet  until  just  before  dawn,  and  that  then  he  began 
to  get  uneasy,  and  at  length  violent,  until  at  last  he  fell 
into  a  paroxysm  which  exhausted  him  so  that  he  swooned 
into  a  sort  of  coma. 

.  .  .  Three  nights  has  the  same  thing  happened — violent 
all  day  then  quiet  from  moonrise  to  sunrise.  I  wish  I  could 

LETTERS,     ETC.  119 

get  some  clue  to  the  cause.  It  would  almost  seem  as  if 
there  was  some  influence  which  came  and  went.  Happ)^ 
thought !  We  shall  to-ni^ht  play  sane  wits  against  mad 
ones.  He  escaped  before  without  our  help ;  to-night  he 
shall  escape  with  it.  We  shall  give  him  a  chance,  and  have 
the  men  ready  to  follow  in  case  they  are  required.  .  .  . 

2^  August. — "The  unexpected  always  happens."  How 
well  Disraeli  knew  life.  Our  bird  when  he  found  the  cage 
open  would  not  fly,  so  all  our  subtle  arrangements  were  for 
nought.  At  any  rate,  we  have  proved  one  thing;  that  the 
spells  of  quietness  last  a  reasonable  time.  We  shall  in  fu- 
ture be  able  to  ease  his  bonds  for  a  few  hours  each  day.  I 
have  given  orders  to  the  night  attendant  merely  to  shut 
him  in  the  padded  room,  when  once  he  is  quiet,  I'ntil  an 
hour  before  sunrise.  The  poor  soul's  body  will  enjoy  the 
relief  even  if  his  mind  cannot  appreciate  it.  Hark !  The  un- 
expected again !  I  am  called ;  the  patient  has  once  more 

Later. — Another  night  adventure.  Renfield  artfully 
waited  until  the  attendant  was  entering  the  room  to  in- 
spect. Then  he  dashed  out  past  him  and  flew  down  the  pas- 
sage. I  sent  word  for  the  attendants  to  follow.  Again  he 
went  into  the  grounds  of  the  deserted  house,  and  we  found 
him  in  the  same  place,  pressed  against  the  old  chapel  door. 
When  he  saw  me  he  became  furious,  and  had  not  the 
attendants  seized  him  in  time,  he  would  have  tried  to  kill 
me.  As  we  were  holding  him  a  strange  thing  happened. 
He  suddenly  redoubled  his  efforts,  and  then  as  suddenly 
grew  calm.  I  looked  round  instinctively,  but  could  see 
nothing.  Then  I  caught  the  patient's  eye  and  followed  it,, 
but  could  trace  nothing  as  it  looked  into  the  moonlit  sky 
except  a  big  bat,  which  was"  flapping  its  silent  and  ghostly 
way  to  the  west.  Bats  usually  wheel  and  flit  about,  but  this 
one  seemed  to  go  straight  on,  as  if  it  knew  where  it  was 
bound  for  or  had  some  intention  of  its  own.  The  patient 
grew  calmer  every  instant,  and  presently  said : — 

"You  needn't  tie  me ;  I  shall  go  quietly !"  Without  trou- 
ble we  came  back  to  the  house.  I  feel  there  is  somethings 
ominous  in  his  calm,  and  shall  not  forget  this  night.  .  .  . 


Lucy  Wcstenras  Diary 

Hillingham,  24  August. — I  must  imitate  Mina,  and  keep 
writing  things  down.  Then  we  can  have  long  talks  when  we 
do  meet.  I  wonder  when  it  will  be.  I  wish  she  were  with 
me  again,  for  I  feel  so  unhappy.  Last  night  I  seemed  to  be 
dreaming  again  just  as  I  was  at  Whitby.  Perhaps  it  is 
the  change  of  air,  or  getting  home  again.  It  is  all  dark  and 
horrid  to  me,  for  I  can  remember  nothing;  but  I  am  full 
of  vague  fear,  and  I  feel  so  weak  and  worn  out.  When 
Arthur  came  to  lunch  he  looked  quite  grieved  when  he 
saw  me,  and  I  hadn't  the  spirit  to  try  to  be  cheerful.  I 
wonder  if  I  could  sleep  in  mother's  room  to-night.  I  shall 
make  an  excuse  and  try. 

25  August. — Another  bad  night.  Mother  did  not  seem  to 
take  to  my  proposal.  She  seems  not  too  well  herself,  and 
doubtless  she  fears  to  worry  me.  I  tried  to  keep  awake,  and 
succeeded  for  a  while ;  but  when  the  clock  struck  twelve  it 
waked  me  from  a  doze,  so  I  must  have  been  falling  asleep. 
There  was  a  sort  of  scratching  or  flapping  at  the  window, 
but  I  did  not  mind  it,  and  as  I  remember  no  more,  I  sup- 
pose I  must  then  have  fallen  asleep.  More  bad  dreams.  I 
wish  I  could  remember  them.  This  morning  I  am  horribly 
weak.  My  face  is  ghastly  pale,  and  my  throat  pains  me. 
It  must  be  something  wrong  with  my  lungs,  for  I  don't 
seem  ever  to  get  air  enough.  I  shall  try  to  cheer  up  when 
Arthur  comes,  or  else  I  know  he  will  be  miserable  to  see 
me  so. 

Letter,  Arthur  Holmwood  to  Dr.  Seward. 

"Albemarle  Hotel,  ji  August. 
*'My  dear  Jack, — 

*T  want  you  to  do  me  a  favour.  Lucy  is  ill ;  that  is,  she 
has  no  special  disease,  but  she  looks  awful,  and  is  get- 
ting worse  every  day.  I  have  asked  her  if  there  is  any 
cause ;  I  do  not  dare  to  ask  her  mother,  for  to  disturb  the 
poor  lady's  mind  about  her  daughter  in  her  present  state 
of  health  would  be  fatal.  Mrs.  Westenra  has  confided  to 

LETTERS,    ETC.  121 

me  that  her  doom  is  spoken — disease  of  the  heart — ^though 
poor  Lucy  does  not  know  it  yet.  I  am  sure  that  there  is 
something  preying  on  my  dear  girl's  mind.  I  am  ahnosi 
distracted  when  I  think  of  her;  to  look  at  her  gives  me  ^ 
pang.  I  told  her  I  should  ask  you  to  see  her,  and  though 
she  demurred  at  first — I  know  why,  old  fellow — she  fi- 
nally consented.  It  will  be  a  painful  task  for  you,  I  know, 
old  friend,  but  it  is  for  her  sake,  and  I  must  not  hesitate  to 
ask,  or  you  to  act.  You  are  to  come  to  lunch  at  HillixJgham 
to-morrow,  two  o'clock,  so  as  not  to  arouse  any  suspicion 
in  Mrs.  Westenra,  and  after  lunch  Lucy  will  taLe  an  op- 
portunity of  being  alone  with  you.  I  shall  come  in  for 
tea,  and  we  can  go  away  together ;  I  am  filled  with  anxiety, 
and  want  to  consult  with  you  alone  as  soon  as  1  can  after 
you  have  seen  her.  Do  not  fail!  "Arthur."    - 

Telegram,  Arthur  Holmwood  to  S(Aj(.ard. 

'  7  September. 

"Am  summoned  to  see  my  father,  wlio  is  worse.  Am 
writing.  Write  me  fully  by  to-night's  p^st  to  Ring.  Wire 
me  if  necessary." 

Letter  from  Dr.  Seward  to  Arthuh    Holmwood. 

"2  September, 
"My  dear  old  fellow, — 

"With  regard  to  Miss  Westenra's  heorfch  I  hasten  to  let 
you  know  at  once  that  in  my  opinion  there  is  not  any  func- 
tional disturbance  or  any  malady  that  I  know  of.  At  the 
same  time,  I  am  not  by  any  means  satisfied  with  her  ap- 
pearance ;  she  is  woefully  different  from  what  she  was 
when  I  saw  her  last.  Of  course  you  must  bear  in  mind 
that  I  did  not  have  full  opportunity  of  examination  such  as 
I  should  wish ;  our  very  friendship  makes  a  little  difficulty 
which  not  even  medical  science  or  custom  can  bridge  over. 
I  had  better  tell  you  exactly  what  happened,  leaving  you  to 
draw,  in  a  measure,  your  own  conclusions.  I  shall  then  say 
what  I  have  done  and  propose  doing. 

"I  found  Miss  Westenra  in  seemingly  gay  spirits.  Hef 

122  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

mother  was  present,  and  in  a  few  seconds  I  made  up  my 
mind  that  she  was  trying  all  she  knew  to  mislead  her 
mother  and  prevent  her  from  being  anxious.  I  have  no 
doubt  she  guesses,  if  she  does  not  know,  what  need  of  cau- 
tion there  is.  We  lunched  alone,  and  as  we  all  exerted  our- 
selves to  be  cheerful,  we  got,  as  some  kind  of  reward  for 
our  labours,  some  real  cheerfulness  amongst  us.  Then  Mrs. 
Westenra  went  to  lie  down,  and  Lucy  was  left  with  me. 
We  went  into  her  boudoir,  and  till  we  got  there  her  gaiety 
remained,  for  the  servants  were  coming  and  going.  As 
soon  as  the  door  was  closed,  however,  the  mask  fell  from 
her  face,  and  she  sank  down  into  a  chair  with  a  great 
sigh,  and  hid  her  eyes  with  her  hand.  When  I  saw  that  her 
high  spirits  had  failed,  I  at  once  took  advantage  of  her 
reaction  to  make  a  diagnosis.  She  said  to  me  very 
sweetly : — 

"  *I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  loathe  talking  about  myself.'  I 
reminded  her  that  a  doctor's  confidence  was  sacred,  but 
that  you  were  grievously  anxious  about  her.  She  caught 
on  to  my  meaning  at  once,  and  settled  that  matter  in  a 
word.  'Tell  Arthur  everything  you  choose.  I  do  not  care 
for  myself,  but  all  for  him!'  So  I  am  quite  free. 

**I  could  easily  see  that  she  is  somewhat  bloodless,  but  I 
could  not  see  the  usual  anaemic  signs,  and  by  a  chance  I 
was  actually  able  to  test  the  quality  of  her  blood,  for  in 
opening  a  window  which  was  stiff  a  cord  gave  way,  and 
she  cut  her  hand  slightly  with  broken  glass.  It  was  a  slight 
matter  in  itself,  but  it  gave  me  an  evident  chance,  and  I 
secured  a  few  drops  of  the  blood  and  have  analysed  them. 
The  qualitative  analysis  gives  a  quite  normal  condition, 
and  shows,  I  should  infer,  in  itself  a  vigorous  state  of 
health.  In  other  physical  matters  I  was  quite  satisfied  that 
there  is  no  need  for  anxiety ;  but  as  there  must  be  a  cause 
somewhere,  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  must  be 
something  mental.  She  complains  of  difficulty  in  breathing 
satisfactorily  at  times,  and  of  heavy,  lethargic  sleep,  with 
dreams  that  frighten  her,  but  regarding  which  she  can  re- 
member nothing.  She  says  that  as  a  child  she  used  to  walk 
in  her  sleep,  and  that  when  in  Whitby  the  habit  came  back, 
and  that  once  she  walked  out  in  the  night  and  went  to  East 

LETTERS,    ETC.  153 

Cliff,  where  Miss  Murray  found  her;  but  she  assures  me 
that  of  late  the  habit  has  not  returned.  I  am  in  doubt,  and 
so  have  done  the  best  thing  I  know  of;  I  have  written  to 
my  old  friend  and  master,  Professor  Van  Helsing,  of; 
Amsterdam,  who  knows  as  much  about  obscure  diseases  as 
any  one  in  the  world.  I  have  asked  him  to  come  over,  and 
as  you  told  me  that  all  things  were  to  be  at  your  charge,  L 
have  mentioned  to  him  who  you  are  and  your  relations  to 
Miss  Westenra.  This,  my  dear  fellow,  is  in  obedience  to; 
your  wishes,  for  I  am  only  too  proud  and  happy  to  do 
anything  I  can  for  her.  Van  Helsing  would,  I  know,  do 
anything  for  me  for  a  personal  reason,  so,  no  matter  on. 
what  ground  he  comes,  we  must  accept  his  wishes.  He  is  a 
seemingly  arbitrary  man,  but  this  is  because  he  knows 
what  he  is  talking  about  better  than  any  one  else.  He  is  a 
philosopher  and  a  metaphysician,  and  one  of  the  most  ad- 
vanced scientists  of  his  day ;  and  he  has,  I  believe,  an  abso- 
lutely open  mind.  This,  with  an  iron  nerve,  a  temper  of  the' 
ice-brook,  an  indomitable  resolution,  self-command,  and 
toleration  exalted  from  virtues  to  blessings,  and  the  kindli- 
est and  truest  heart  that  beats — these  form  his  equipment 
for  the  noble  work  that  he  is  doing  for  mankind — work 
both  in  theory  and  practice,  for  his  views  are  as  wide  as 
his  all-embracing  sympathy.  I  tell  you  these  facts  that  you 
may  know  why  I  have  such  confidence  in  him.  I  have  asked 
him  to  come  at  once.  I  shall  see  Miss  Westenra  to-mor- 
row again.  She  is  to  meet  me  at  the  Stores,  so  that  I 
may  not  alarm  her  mother  by  too  early  a  repetition  of  my 
call.  "Yours  always, 

"John  Seward." 

Letter,  Abraham  Van  Helsing,  M.  D.,  D.  Ph.,  D.  Lit.,  etc., 

etc.,  to  Dr.  Sezvard. 

"2  September.     - 
"My  good  Friend, — 

"When  I  have  received  your  letter  I  am  already  coming 
to  you.  By  good  fortune  I  can  leave  just  at  once,  without 
wrong  to  any  of  those  who  have  trusted  me.  Were  for' 
tune  other,  then  it  were  bad  for  those  who  have  trusted, 
for  I  come  to  my  friend  when  he  call  me  to  aid  those  he. 


holds  dear.  Tell  your  friend  that  when  that  time  you  suck 
from  my  wound  so  swiftly  the  poison  of  the  gangrene 
from  that  knife  that  our  other  friend,  too  nervous,  let 
slip,  you  did  more  for  him  when  he  wants  my  aids  and  you 
call  for  them  than  all  his  great  fortune  could  do.  But  it  is 
pleasure  added  to  do  for  him,  your  friend ;  it  is  to  you 
that  I  come.  Have  then  rooms  for  me  at  the  Great  Eastern 
Hotel,  so  that  I  may  be  near  to  hand,  and  please  it  so 
arrange  that  we  may  see  the  young  lady  not  too  late  on  to- 
morrow, for  it  is  likely  that  I  may  have  to  return  here  that 
night.  But  if  need  be  I  shall  come  again  in  three  days,  and 
stay  longer  if  it  must.  Till  then  good-bye,  my  friend  John. 

"Van  Helsing." 

Letter,  Dr.  Seward  to  Hon.  Arthuf  Holmwood. 

''3  September. 
"My  dear  Art, — 

"Van  Helsing  has  come  and  gone.  He  came  on  with  me 
to  Hillingham,  and  found  that,  by  Lucy's  discretion,  her 
mother  was  lunching  out,  so  that  we  were  alone  with  her. 
Van  Helsing  made  a  very  careful  examination  of  the  pa- 
tient. He  is  to  report  to  me,  and  I  shall  advise  you,  for  of 
course  I  was  not  present  all  the  time.  He  is,  I  fear,  much 
concerned,  but  says  he  must  think.  When  I  told  him  of  our 
friendship  and  how  you  trust  to  me  in  the  matter,  he  said : 
*You  must  tell  him  all  you  think.  Tell  him  what  I  think, 
if  you  can  guess  it,  if  you  will.  Nay,  I  am  not  jesting.  This 
is  no  jest,  but  life  and  death,  perhaps  more.'  I  asked  what 
he  meant  by  that,  for  he  was  very  serious.  This  was  when 
we  had  come  back  to  town,  and  he  was  having  a  cup  of 
tea  before  starting  on  his  return  to  Amsterdam.  He  would 
not  give  me  any  further  clue.  You  must  not  be  angry  with 
me,  Art,  because  his  very  reticence  means  that  all  his 
brains  are  working  for  her  good.  He  will  speak  plainly 
enough  when  the  time  comes,  be  sure.  So  I  told  him  I 
would  simply  write  an  account  of  our  visit,  just  as  if  I 
were  doing  a  descriptive  special  article  for  The  Daily 
Telegraph.  He  seemed  not  to  notice,  but  remarked  that  the 
smuts  in  London  were  not  quite  so  bad  as  they  used  to  be 

LETTERS,    ETC.  125 

when  he  was  a  student  here.  I  am  to  get  his  report  to- 
morrow if  he  can  possibly  make  it.  In  any  case  I  am  to 
have   a   letter. 

''Well,  as  to  the  visit.  Lucy  was  more  cheerful  than 
on  the  day  I  first  saw  her,  and  certainly  looked  better.  She 
had  lost  something  of  the  ghastly  look  that  so  upset  you, 
and  her  breathing  was  normal.  She  was  very  sweet  to  the 
professor  (as  she  always  is),  and  tried  to  make  him  feel 
at  ease ;  though  I  could  see  that  the  poor  girl  was  making 
a  hard  struggle  for  it.  I  believe  Van  Helsing  saw  it,  too, 
for  I  saw  the  quick  look  under  his  bushy  brows  that  I 
knew  of  old.  Then  he  began  to  chat  of  all  things  except 
ourselves  and  diseases  and  with  such  an  infinite  geniality 
that  I  could  see  poor  Lucy's  pretense  of  animation  merge 
into  reality.  Then,  without  any  seeming  change,  he  brought 
the  conversation  gently  round  to  his  visit,  and  suavely 
said : — 

"  'My  dear  young  miss,  I  have  the  so  great  pleasure  be- 
cause you  are  so  much  beloved.  Tl]at  is  much,  my  dear, 
ever  were  there  that  which  I  do  not  see.  They  told  me  you 
were  down  in  the  spirit,  and  that  you  were  of  a  ghastly 
pale.  To  them  I  say :  "Pouf  !"  '  And  he  snapped  his  fingers 
at  me  and  went  on :  'But  you  and  I  shall  show  them  how 
wrong  they  are.  How  can  he' — and  he  pointed  at  me  with 
the  same  look  and  gesture  as  that  with  which  once  he 
pointed  me  out  to  his  class,  on,  or  rather  after,  a  particular 
occasion  which  he  never  fails  to  remjnd  me  of — 'know 
anything  of  a  young  ladies?  He  has  his  madams  to  play 
with,  and  to  bring  them  back  to  happiness,  and  to  those 
that  love  them.  It  is  much  to  do,  and,  oh,  but  there  are 
rewards,  in  that  we  can  bestow  such  happiness.  But  the 
young  ladies !  He  has  no  wife  nor  daughter,  and  the  young 
do  -not  tell  themselves  to  the  young,  but  to  the  old,  like  me, 
who  have  known  so  many  sorrows  and  the  causes  of  them. 
So,  my  dear,  we  will  send  him  away  to  smoke  the  cigarette 
in  the  garden,  whiles  you  and  I  have  little  talk  all  to  our- 
selves.' I  took  the  hint,  and  strolled  about,  and  presently 
the  professor  came  to  the  window  and  called  me  in.  He 
looked  grave,  but  said:  'I  have  made  careful  examination, 
but  there  is  no  functional  cause.  With  you  I  agree  "jhat 

,126  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

there  has  been  much  blood  lost;  it  has  been,  but  is  not. 
But  the  conditions  of  her  are  in  no  way  anaemic.  I  have 
asked  her  to  send  me  her  maid,  that  I  may  ask  just  one  or 
two  question,  that  so  I  may  not  chance  to  miss  nothing.  I 
know  well  what  she  will  say.  And  yet  there  is  cause ;  there 
is  always  cause  for  everything.  I  must  go  back  home  and 
think.  You  must  send  to  me  the  telegram  every  day;  and 
if  there  be  cause  I  shall  come  again.  The  disease — for  not 
to  be  all  well  is  a  disease — interest  me,  and  the  sweet 
young  dear,  she  interest  me  too.  She  charm  me,  and  for 
her,  if  not  for  you  or  disease,  I  come.' 

"As  I  tell  you,  he  would  not  say  a  word  more,  even 
when  we  were  alone.  And  so  now.  Art,  you  know  all  I  know. 
I  shall  keep  stern  watch.  I  trust  your  poor  father  is  rally- 
ing. It  must  be  a  terrible  thing  to  you,  my  dear  old  fellow, 
to  be  placed  in  such  a  position  between  two  people  who  are 
both  so  dear  to  you.  I  know  your  idea  of  duty  to  your 
father,  and  you  are  right  to  stick  to  it;  but,  if  need  be,  I 
shall  send  you  word  to  come  at  once  to  Lucy ;  so  do  not  be 
over-anxious  unless  you  hear  from  me." 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

4  September. — Zoophagous  patient  still  keeps  up  our  in- 
terest in  him.  He  had  only  one  outburst  and  that  was  yes- 
terday at  an  unusual  time.  Just  before  the  stroke  of  noon 
he  began  to  grow  restless.  The  attendant  knew  the  sym- 
ptoms, and  at  once  summoned  aid.  Fortunately  the  men 
came  at  a  run,  and  were  just  in  time,  for  at  the  stroke  of 
noon  he  became  so  violent  that  it  took  all  their  strength  to 
hold  him.  In  about  five  minutes,  however,  he  began  to  get 
more  and  more  quiet,  and  finally  sank  into  a  sort  of  melan- 
choly, in  which  state  he  has  remained  up  to  now.  The  at- 
tendant tells  me  that  his  screams  whilst  in  the  paroxysm 
were  really  appalling;  I  found  my  hands  full  when  I  got 
in,  attending  to  some  of  the  other  patients  who  were 
frightened  by  him.  Indeed,  I  can  quite  understand  the 
effect,  for  the  sounds  disturbed  even  me,  though  I  was 
some  distance  away.  It  is  now  after  the  dinner-hour  of  the 
asylum,  and  as  yet  my  patient  sits  in  a  corner  brooding, 

LETTERS,    ETC.  1:27 

with  a  dull,  sullen,  woe-begone  look  in  his  face,  whicli 
seems  rather  to  indicate  than  to  show  something  directly. 
I  cannot  quite  understand  it. 

Later. — Another  change  in  my  patient.  At  five  o'clock 
I  looked  in  on  him,  and  found  him  seemingly  as  happy 
and  contented  as  he  used  to  be.  He  was  catching  flies  and 
eating  them,  and  was  keeping  note  of  his  capture  by  mak- 
ing nail-marks  on  the  edge  of  the  door  between  the  ridges 
of  padding.  When  he  saw  me,  he  came  over  and  apologised 
for  his  bad  conduct,  and  asked  me  in  a  very  humble,  cring- 
ing way  to  be  led  back  to  his  own  room  and  to  have  his' 
note-book  again.  I  thought  it  well  to  humour  him:  so  he 
is  back  in  his  room  with  the  window  open.  He  has  the 
sugar  of  his  tea  spread  out  on  the  window-sill,  and  is  reap-' 
ing  quite  a  harvest  of  flies.  He  is  not  now  eating  them, 
but  putting  them  into  a  box,  as  of  old,  and  is  already  ex-, 
amining  the  corners  of  his  room  to  find  a  spider.  I  tried  to' 
get  him  to  talk  about  the  past  few  days,  for  any  clue  to  his', 
thoughts  would  be  of  immense  help  to  me ;  but  he  would 
not  rise.  For  a  moment  or  two  he  looked  very  sad,  and  said 
in  a  sort  of  far-away  voice,  as  though  saying  it  rather  to 
himself  than  to  me : — 

•  "All  over!  all  over!  He  has  deserted  me.  No  hope  for 
me  now  unless  I  do  it  for  myself !"  Then  suddenly  turning 
to  me  in  a  resolute  way,  he  said :  "Doctor,  won't  you  be 
very  good  to  me  and  let  me  have  a  little  more  sugar?  I 
think  it  would  be  good  for  me." 

"And  the  flies?"  I  said. 

"Yes !  The  flies  like  it,  too,  and  I  like  the  flies ;  therefore 
I  like  it."  And  there  are  people  who  know  so  little  as  to 
think  that  madmen  do  not  argue.  I  procured  him  a  double 
supply,  and  left  him  as  happy  a  man  as,  I  suppose,  any  in 
the  world.  I  wish  I  could  fathom  his  mind. 

Midnight. — Another  change  in  him.  I  had  been  to  see 
Miss  Westenra,  whom  I  found  much  better,  and  had  just 
returned,  and  was  standing  at  our  own  gate  looking  at  the 
sunset,  when  once  more  I  heard  him  yelling.  As  his  room 
is  on  this  side  of  the  house,  I  could  hear  it  better  than  in 
the  morning.  It  was  a  shock  to  me  to  turn  from  the  won- 

128  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

ckrful  smoky  beauty  of  a  sunset  over  London,  with  its 
lurid  lights  and  inky  shadows  and  all  the  marvellous  tints 
that  come  on  foul  clouds  even  as  on  foul  water,  and  to 
realise  all  the  grim  sternness  of  my  own  cold  stone  build- 
ing, with  its  wealth  of  breathing  misery,  and  my  own  deso- 
late heart  to  endure  it  all.  I  reached  him  just  as  the  sun 
was  going  down,  and  from  his  window  saw  the  red  disc 
sink.  As  it  sank  he  became  less  and  less  frenzied ;  and  just 
as  it  dipped  he  slid  from  the  hands  that  held  him,  an  inert 
mass,  on  the  floor.  It  is  wonderful,  however,  what  intel- 
lectual recuperative  power  lunatics  have,  for  within  a  fev*' 
minutes  he  stood  up  quite  calmly  and  looked  around  him. 
I  signalled  to  the  attendants  not  to  hold  him,  for  I  was 
anxious  to  see  what  he  would  do.  He  went  straight  over  to 
the  window  and  brushed  out  the  crumbs  of  sugar ;  then  he 
took  his  fly-box,  and  emptied  it  outside,  and  threw  away 
the  box ;  then  he  shut  the  window,  and  crossing  over,  sat 
down  on  his  bed.  All  this  surprised  me,  so  I  asked  him; 
"Are  you  not  going  to  keep  flies  any  more  ?" 

"No,"  said  he;  "I  am  sick  of  all  that  rubbish!"  He  cer- 
tainly is  a  wonderfully  interesting  study.  I  wish  I  could  get 
some  glimpse  of  his  mind  or  of  the  cause  of  his  sudden 
passion.  Stop ;  there  may  be  a  clue  after  all,  if  we  can  find 
why  to-day  his  paroxysms  came  on  at  high  noon  and  at 
sunset.  Can  it  be  that  there  is  a  malign  influence  of  the 
sun  at  periods  which  aflfects  certain  natures — ^as  at  times 
the  moon  does  others?  We  shall  see. 

Telegram,  Seward,  London,  to  Van  Helsing,  Amsterdam. 
"4  September. — Patient  still  better  to-day." 

Telegram,  Seward,  London,  to  Van  Helsing,  Amsterdam, 

"5  September. — Patient  greatly  improved.  Good  appe- 
tite; sleeps  naturally;  good  spirits;  colour  coming  back." 

Telegram,  Seward,  London,  to  Van  Helsing,  Amsterdam. 

"6  September. — Terrible  change  for  the  worse.  Come  at 
once ;  do  not  lose  an  hour  I  hold  over  telegram  to  Holm- 
wood  till  have  seen  you." 


Letter,  Dr.  Seward  to  Hon.  Arthur  Holmwood 

"6  September. 
"My  dear  Art,— 

'*My  news  to-day  is  not  so  good.  Lucy  this  morning  had 
gone  back  a  bit.  There  is,  however,  one  good  thing  which 
has  arisen  from  it ;  Mrs.  Westenra  was  naturally  anxious 
concerning  Lucy,  and  has  consulted  me  professionally 
about  her.  I  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity,  and  told 
her  that  my  old  master,  Van  Helsing,  the  great  specialist, 
was  coming  to  stay  with  me,  and  that  I  would  put  her  in 
his  charge  conjointly  with  myself ;  so  now  we  can  come 
and  go  without  alarming  her  unduly,  for  a  shock  to  her 
would  mean  sudden  death,  and  this,  in  Lucy's  weak  con- 
dition, might  be  disastrous  to  her.  We  are  hedged  in  with 
difficulties,  all  of  us,  my  poor  old  fellow ;  but,  please  God, 
we  shall  come  through  them  all  right.  If  any  need  I  shall 
write,  so  that,  if  you  do  not  hear  from  me,  take  it  for 
granted  that  I  am  simply  waiting  for  news.  In  haste 

Yours  ever, 
"John  Seward." 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary, 

7  September. — The  first  thing  Van  Helsing  said  to  me 
when  we  met  at  Liverpool  Street  was : — 

"Have  you  said  anything  to  our  young  friend  the  lover 
of  her?" 

"No,"  I  said.  "I  waited  till  I  had  seen  you,  as  I  said  in 
my  telegram.  I  wrote  him  a  letter  simply  telling  him  that 
you  were  coming,  as  Miss  Westenra  was  not  so  well,  and 
that  I  should  let  him  know  if  need  be." 

"Right,  my  friend,"  he  said,  "quite  right !  Better  he  not 
know  as  yet ;  perhaps  he  shall  never  know.  I  pray  so ;  but 


I30  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

if  it  be  needed,  then  he  shall  know  all.  And,'my  good  friend 
John,  let  me  caution  you.  You  deal  with  the  madmen.  All 
men  are  mad  in  some  way  or  the  other ;  and  inasmuch  as 
you  deal  discreetly  with  your  madmen,  so  deal  with  God's 
madmen,  too — the  rest  of  the  world.  You  tell  not  your 
madmen  what  you  do  nor  why  you  do  it ;  you  tell  them  not 
what  you  think.  So  you  shall  keep  knowledge  in  its  place, 
where  it  may  rest — where  it  may  gather  its  kind  around  it 
and  breed.  You  and  I  shall  keep  as  yet  what  we  know  here, 
and  here."  He  touched  me  on  the  heart  and  on  the  fore- 
head, and  then  touched  himself  the  same  way.  ''I  have  for 
myself  thoughts  at  the  present.  Later  I  shall  unfold  to 


''Why  not  now?"  I  asked.  "It  may  do  some  good;  we 
may  arrive  at  some  decision."  He  stopped  and  looked  at 
me,  and  said  : — 

"My  friend  John,  when  the  corn  is  grown,  even  before  it 
has  ripened — while  the  milk  of  its  mother-earth  is  in  him, 
and  the  sunshine  has  not  yet  begun  to  paint  him  with  his 
gold,  the  husbandman  he  pull  the  ear  and  rub  him  between 
his  rough  hands,  and  blow  away  the  green  chaff,  and  say 
to  you :  'Look !  he's  good  corn ;  he  will  make  good  crop 
when  the  time  comes.'  "  I  did  not  see  the  application,  and 
told  him  so.  For  reply  he  reached  over  and  took  my  ear  in 
his  hand  and  pulled  it  playfully,  as  he  used  long  ago  to  do 
at  lectures,  and  said :  "The  good  husbandman  tell  you  so 
then  because  he  knows,  but  not  till  then.  But  you  do  not 
find  the  good  husbandman  dig  up  his  planted  corn  to  see  if 
he  grow ;  that  is  for  the  children  who  play  at  husbandry, 
and  not  for  those  who  take  it  as  of  the  work  of  their  life. 
See  you  now,  friend  John  ?  I  have  sown  my  corn,  and  Na- 
ture has  her  work  to  do  in  making  it  sprout ;  if  he  sprout 
at  all,  there's  some  promise ;  and  I  wait  till  the  ear  begins 
to  swell."  He  broke  off,  for  he  evidently  saw  that  I  under- 
stood. Then  he  went  on,  and  very  gravely : — 

"You  were  always  a  careful  student,  and  your  case- 
book was  ever  more  full  than  the  rest.  You  were  only  stu- 
dent then ;  now  you  are  master,  and  I  trust  that  good  habit 
have  not  fail.  Remember,  my  friend,  that  knowledge  is 
stronger  than  memory,  and  we  should  not  trust  the  weaker. 

L  E  T  T  E  R  S  ,    E  T  C  .  131 

Even  if  you  have  not  kept  the  good  practise,  let  me  tell 
you  that  this  case  of  our  dear  miss  is  one  that  may  be — 
mind,  I  say  may  be — of  such  interest  to  us  and  others  that 
all  the  rest  may  not  make  him  kick  the  beam,  as  your  peo- 
ples say.  Take  then  good  note  of  it.  Nothing  is  too  small 
I  counsel  you,  put  down  in  record  even  your  doubts  and 
surmises.  Hereafter  it  may  be  of  interest  to  you  to  see  how 
true  you  guess.  We  learn  from  failure,  not  from  success  \" 

When  I  described  Lucy's  symptoms — the  same  as  be- 
fore, but  infinitely  more  marked — he  looked  very  grave, 
but  said  nothing.  He  took  with  him  a  bag  in  which  were 
many  instruments  and  drugs,  ''the  ghastly  paraphernalia 
of  our  beneficial  trade,"  as  he  once  called,  in  one  of  his 
lectures,  the  equipment  of  a  professor  of  the  healing  craft. 
When  we  were  shown  in,  Mrs.  Westenra  met  us.  She  was 
alarmed,  but  not  nearly  so  much  as  I  expected  to  find  her, 
Nature  in  one  of  her  beneficent  moods  has  ordained  that 
even  death  has  some  antidote  to  its  own  terrors.  Here,  in 
a  case  where  any  shock  may  prove  fatal,  matters  are  so 
ordered  that,  from  some  cause  or  other,  the  things  not  per- 
sonal— even  the  terrible  change  in  her  daughter  to  whom 
she  is  so  attached — do  not  seem  to  reach  her.  It  is  some- 
thing like  the  way  Dame  Nature  gathers  round  a  foreign 
body  an  envelope  of  some  insensitive  tissue  which  can  pro- 
tect from  evil  that  which  it  would  otherwise  harm  by  con- 
tact. If  this  be  an  ordered  selfishness,  then  we  should  pause 
before  we  condemn  any  one  for  the  vice  of  egoism,  for 
there  may  be  deeper  root  for  its  causes  than  we  have 
knowledge  of. 

I  used  my  knowledge  of  this  phase  of  spiritual  pathol- 
ogy, and  laid  down  a  rule  that  she  should  not  be  present 
with  Lucy  or  think  of  her  illness  more  than  was  absolutely 
required.  She  assented  readily,  so  readily  that  I  saw  again 
the  hand  of  Nature  fighting  for  life.  Van  Helsing  and  I 
were  shown  up  to  Lucy's  room.  If  I  was  shocked  when  I 
saw  her  yesterday,  I  was  horrified  when  I  saw  her  to-day. 
She  was  ghastly,  chalkily  pale  ;  the  red  seemed  to  have  gone 
even  from  her  lips  and  gums,  and  the  bones  of  her  face 
stood  out  prominently ;  her  breathing  was  painful  to  see  or 
hear.  Van  Helsing's  face  grew  set  as  marble,  and  his  eye-^ 

132  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

brows  converged  till  they  almost  touched  over  his  nose. 
Lucy  lay  motionless,  and  did  not  seem  to  have  strength  to 
speak,  so  for  a  while  we  were  all  silent.  Then  Van  Helsing 
beckoned  to  me,  and  we  went  gently  out  of  the  room.  The 
instant  we  had  closed  the  door  he  stepped  quickly  along  the 
passage  to  the  next  door,  which  was  open.  Then  he  pulled 
me  quickly  in  with  him  and  closed  the  door.  "My  God!" 
he  said ;  "this  is  dreadful.  There  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  She 
will  die  for  sheer  want  of  blood  to  keep  the  heart's  action 
as  it  should  be.  There  must  be  transfusion  of  blood  at  once. 
Is  it  you  or  me  ?" 

*T  am  younger  and  stronger,  Professor.  It  must  be  me."" 

"Then  get  ready  at  once.  I  will  bring  up  my  bag.  I  am 

I  went  downstairs  with  him,  and  as  we  were  going  there 
was  a  knock  at  the  hall-door.  When  we  reached  the  halt 
the  maid  had  just  opened  the  door,  and  Arthur  was  step- 
ping quickly  in.  He  rushed  up  to  me,  saying  in  an  eager 
whisper : — 

"Jack,  I  was  so  anxious.  I  read  between  the  lines  of  your 
letter,  and  have  been  in  an  agony.  The  dad  was  better,  so 
I  ran  down  here  to  see  for  myself.  Is  not  that  gentleman 
Dr.  Van  Helsing?  I  am  so  thankful  to  you,  sir,  for  com- 
ing." When  first  the  Professor's  eye  had  lit  upon  him  he 
had  been  angry  at  his  interruption  at  such  a  time ;  but  now, 
as  he  took  in  his  stalwart  proportions  and  recognised  the 
strong  young  manhood  which  seemed  to  emanate  from 
him,  his  eyes  gleamed.  Without  a  pause  he  said  to  him 
gravely  as  he  held  out  his  hand : — 

"Sir,  you  have  come  in  time.  You  are  the  lover  of  our 
dear  miss.  She  is  bad,  very,  very  bad.  Nay,  my  child,  do 
not  go  like  that."  For  he  suddenly  grew  pale  and  sat  down 
in  a  chair  almost  fainting.  "You  are  to  help  her.  You  can 
do  more  than  any  that  live,  and  your  courage  is  your  best 

"What  can  I  do?"  asked  Arthur  hoarsely.  "Tell  me, 
and  I  shall  do  it.  My  life  is  hers,  and  I  would  give  the  last 
drop  of  blood  in  my  body  for  her."  The  Professor  has  a 
strongly  humorous  side,  and  I  could  from  old  knowledge 
detect  a  trace  of  its  origin  in  his  answer: — 

LETTERS,    ETC.  133 

"My  young  sir,  I  do  not  ask  so  much  as  that — not  the 

"What  shall  I  do?"  There  was  fire  in  his  eyes,  and  his 
open  nostril  quivered  with  intent.  Van  Helsing  slapped  him 
on  the  shoulder.  "Come!"  he  said.  "You  are  a  man,  and  it 
is  a  man  we  want.  You  are  better  than  me,  better  than  my 
friend  John."  Arthur  looked  bewildered,  and  the  Profes- 
sor went  on  by  explaining  in  a  kindly  way  : — 

"Young  miss  is  bad,  very  bad.  She  wants  blood,  and 
blood  she  must  have  or  die.  My  friend  John  and  I  have 
consulted ;  and  we  are  about  to  perform  what  we  call  trans- 
fusion of  blood — to  transfer  from  full  veins  of  one  to  the 
empty  veins  which  pine  for  him.  John  was  to  give  his  blood, 
as  he  is  the  more  young  and  strong  than  me" — here 
Arthur  took  my  hand  and  wrung  it  hard  in  silence — "but, 
now  you  are  here,  you  are  more  good  than  us,  old  or  young, 
who  toil  much  in  the  world  of  thought.  Our  nerves  are  not 
so  calm  and  our  blood  not  so  bright  than  yours!"  Arthur 
turned  to  him  and  said : — 

"If  you  only  knew  how  gladly  I  would  die  for  her  you 
'would  understand " 

He  stopped,  with  a  sort  of  choke  in  his  voice. 

"Good  boy!"  said  Van  Helsing.  "In  the  not-so-far-off 
you  will  be  happy  that  you  have  done  all  for  her  you  love. 
Come  now  and  be  silent.  You  shall  kiss  her  once  before  it 
is  done,  but  then  you  must  go ;  and  you  must  leave  at  my 
sign.  Say  no  word  to  Madame ;  you  know  how  it  is  with 
her !  There  must  be  no  shock ;  any  knowledge  of  this  would 
be  one.  Come !" 

We  all  went  up  to  Lucy's  room.  Arthur  by  direction  re- 
mained outside.  Lucy  turned  her  head  and  looked  at  us, 
but  said  nothing.  She  was  not  asleep,  but  she  was  simply 
too  weak  to  make  the  effort.  Her  eyes  spoke  to  us ;  that 
was  all.  Van  Helsing  took  some  things  from  his  bag  and 
laid  them  on  a  little  table  out  of  sight.  Then  he  mixed  a 
narcotic,  and  coming  over  to  the  bed,  said  cheerily : — • 

"Now,  little  miss,  here  is  your  medicine.  Drink  it  off, 
like  a  good  child.  See,  I  lift  you  so  that  to  swallow  is  easy. 
Yes."  She  had  made  the  effort  with  success.  , 

It  astonished  me  how  long  the  drug  took  to  act.  This,  in 

134  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

fact,  marked  the  extent  of  her  weakness.  The  time  seemed 
endless  until  sleep  began  to  flicker  in  her  eyelids.  At  last, 
however,  the  narcotic  began  to  manifest  its  potency;  and 
she  fell  into  a  deep  sleep.  When  the  Professor  was  satis- 
fied he  called  Arthur  into  the  room,  and  bade  him  strip  off 
his  coat.  Then  he  added :  "you  may  take  that  one  little  kiss 
whiles  I  bring  over  the  table.  Friend  John,  help  to  me!** 
So  neither  of  us  looked  whilst  he  bent  over  her. 

Van  Helsing  turning  to  me,  said  : 

'*He  is  so  young  and  strong  and  of  blood  so  pure  that 
we  need  not  defibrinate  it." 

Then  with  swiftness,  but  with  absolute  method,  Van 
Helsing  performed  the  operation.  As  the  transfusion  went 
OP  something  like  life  seemed  to  come  back  to  poor  Lucy's 
cheeks,  and  through  Arthur's  growing  pallor  the  joy  of  his 
face  seemed  absolutely  to  shine.  After  a  bit  I  began  to  grow 
anxious,  for  the  loss  of  blood  was  telling  on  Arthur,  strong 
man  as  he  was.  It  gave  me  an  idea  of  what  a  terrible  strain 
Lucy's  system  must  have  undergone  that  what  weakened 
Arthur  only  partially  restored  her.  But  the  Professor's 
face  was  set,  and  he  stood  watch  in  hand  and  with  his  eyes 
fixed  now  on  the  patient  and  now  on  Arthur.  I  could  hear 
my  own  heart  beat.  Presently  he  said  in  a  soft  voice :  "Do 
not  stir  an  instant.  It  is  enough.  You  attend  him ;  I  will 
look  to  her."  When  all  was  over  I  could  see  how  much 
Arthur  was  weakened.  I  dressed  the  wound  and  took  his 
arm  to  bring  him  away,  when  Van  Helsing  spoke  without 
turning  round — the  man  seems  to  have  eyes  in  the  back  of 
his  head : — 

''The  brave  lover,  I  think,  deserve  another  kiss,  which  he 
shall  have  presently."  And  as  he  had  now  finished  his  oper- 
ation, he  adjusted  the  pillow  to  the  patient's  head.  As  he 
did  so  the  narrow  black  velvet  band  which  she  seems  always 
to  wear  round  her  throat,  buckled  with  an  old  diamond 
buckle  which  her  lover  had  given  her,  was  dragged  a  little 
up,  and  showed  a  red  mark  on  her  throat.  Arthur  did  not 
notice  it,  but  I  could  hear  the  deep  hiss  of  indrawn  breath 
which  is  one  of  Van  Helsing's  ways  of  betraying  emotion. 
He  said  nothing  at  the  moment,  but  turned  to  me,  saying : 

LETTERS,    Etc.  135 

*'Now  take  down  our  brave  young  lover,  give  him  of  the 
port  wine,  and  let  him  lie  down  a  while.  He  must  then  go 
liome  and  rest,  sleep  much  and  eat  much,  that  he  may  be 
recruited  of  what  he  has  so  given  to  his  love.  He  must  not 
stay  here.  Hold !  a  moment.  I  may  take  it,  sir,  that  you  are 
anxious  of  result.  Then  bring  it  with  you  that  in  all  ways 
the  operation  is  successful.  You  have  saved  her  life  this 
time,  and  you  can  go  home  and  rest  easy  in  mind  that  all 
that  can  be  is.  I  shall  tell  her  all  when  she  is  well ;  she  shall 
love  you  none  the  less  for  what  you  have  done.  Good-bye." 

When  Arthur  had  gone  I  went  back  to  the  room.  Lucy 
was  sleeping  gently,  but  her  breathing  was  stronger ;  I 
could  see  the  counterpane  move  as  her  breast  heaved.  By 
the  bedside  sat  Van  Helsing,  looking  at  her  intently.  The 
velvet  band  again  covered  the  red  mark.  I  asked  the  Pro- 
fessor in  a  whisper  : — 

"What  do  you  make  of  that  mark  on  her  throat  ?" 

"What  do  you  make  of  it  ?" 

*T  have  not  examined  it  yet,"  I  answered,  and  then  and 
there  proceeded  to  loose  the  band.  Just  over  the  external 
jugular  vein  there  were  two  punctures,  not  large,  but  not 
wholesome-looking.  There  was  no  sign  of  disease,  but  the 
edges  were  white  and  worn-looking,  as  if  by  some  tritura- 
tion. It  at  once  occurred  to  me  that  this  wound,  or  what- 
ever it  was,  might  be  the  means  of  that  manifest  loss  of 
blood;  but  I  abandoned  the  idea  as  soon  as  formed,  for 
such  a  thing  could  not  be.  The  whole  bed  would  have  been 
drenched  to  a  scarlet  with  the  blood  which  the  girl  must 
have  lost  to  leavie  such  a  pallor  as  she  had  before  the  trans- 

"Well?"  said  Van  Helsing. 

"Well,"  said  I,  "I  can  make  nothing  of  it."  The  Profes- 
sor stood  up.  "I  must  go  back  to  Amsterdam  to-night,"  he 
said.  "There  are  books  and  things  there  which  I  want.  You 
must  remain  here  all  the  night,  and  you  must  not  let  your 
sight  pass  from  her." 

"Shall  I  have  a  nurse?"  I  asked. 

"We  are  the  best  nurses,  you  and  I.  You  keep  watch  all 
night;  see  that  she  is  well  fed,  and  that  nothing  disturbs 


her.  You  must  not  sleep  all  the  night.  Later  on  we  can 

sleep,  you  and  I.  I  shall  be  back  as  soon  as  possible.  And 

then  we  may  begin." 

"May  begin?"  I  said.  "What  on  earth  do  you  mean?" 
"We  shall  see !"  he  answered,  as  he  hurried  out.  He  came 

back  a  moment  later  and  put  his  head  inside  the  door  and 

said  with  warning  finger  held  up : — 

"Remember,  she  is  your  charge.  If  you  leave  her,  and 

harm  befall,  you  shall  not  sleep  easy  hereafter !" 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary — continued. 

8  September. — I  sat  up  all  night  with  Lucy.  The  opiate 
worked  itself  off  towards  dusk,  and  she  waked  naturally ; 
she  looked  a  different  being  from  what  she  had  been  be- 
fore the  operation.  Her  spirits  even  were  good,  and  she 
was  full  of  a  happy  vivacity,  but  I  could  see  evidences  of 
the  absolute  prostration  which  she  had  undergone.  When  I 
told  Mrs.  Westenra  that  Dr.  Van  Helsing  had  directed  that 
I  should  sit  up  with  her  she  almost  pooh-poohed  the  idea, 
pointing  out  her  daughter's  renewed  strength  and  excel- 
lent spirits.  I  was  firm,  however,  and  made  preparations 
for  my  long  vigil.  When  her  maid  had  prepared  her  for 
the  night  I  came  in,  having  in  the  meantime  had  supper, 
and  took  a  seat  by  the  bedside.  She  did  not  in  any  way 
make  objection,  but  looked  at  me  gratefully  whenever  I 
caught  her  eye.  After  a  long  spell  she  seemed  sinking  off 
to  sleep,  but  with  an  effort  seemed  to  pull  herself  together 
and  shook  it  off.  This  was  repeated  several  times,  with 
greater  effort  and  with  shorter  pauses  as  the  time  moved 
on.  It  was  apparent  that  she  did  not  want  to  sleep,  so  I 
tackled  the  subject  at  once : — 

"You  do  not  want  to  go  to  sleep  ?" 

"No;  I  am  afraid." 

"Afraid  to  go  to  sleep!  Why  so?  It  is  the  boon  we  all 
crave  for." 

"Ah,  not  if  you  were  like  me — if  sleep  was  to  you  a 
presage  of  horror !" 

"A  presage  of  horror !  What  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I  don't  know ;  oh,  I  don't  know.  And  that  is  what  is  so 

LETTERS,    ETC.  137 

terrible.  All  this  weakness  comes  to  me  in  sleep;  until  I 
dread  the  very  thought." 

"But,  my  dear  girl,  you  may  sleep  to-night.  I  am  here 
watching  you,  and  I  can  promise  that  nothing  will  happen." 

"Ah,  I  can  trust  you!"  I  seized  the  opportunity,  and 
said :  '*I  promise  you  that  if  I  see  any  evidence  of  bad 
dreams  I  will  wake  you  at  once." 

"You  will?  Oh,  will  you  really?  How  good  you  are  to 
me.  Then  I  will  sleep !"  And  almost  at  the  word  she  gave  a 
deep  sigh  of  relief,  and  sank  back,  asleep. 

AH  night  long  I  watched  by  her.  She  never  stirred,  but 
slept  on  and  on  in  a  deep,  tranquil,  life-giving,  health- 
giving  sleep.  Her  lips  were  slightly  parted,  and  her  breast 
rose  and  fell  with  the  regularity  of  a  pendulum.  There  was 
a  smile  on  her  face,  and  it  was  evident  that  no  bad  dreams 
had  come  to  disturb  her  peace  of  mind. 

In  the  early  morning  her  maid  came,  and  I  left  her  in  her 
care  and  took  myself  back  home,  for  I  was  anxious  about 
many  things.  I  sent  a  short  wire  to  Van  Helsing  and  to 
Arthur,  telling  them  of  the  excellent  result  of  the  opera- 
tion. My  own  work,  with  its  manifold  arrears,  took  me  all 
day  to  clear  off;  it  was  dark  when  I  was  able  to  inquire 
about  my  zoophagous  patient.  The  report  was  good ;  he  had 
been  quiet  for  the  past  day  and  night.  A  telegram  came 
from  Van  Helsing  at  Amsterdam  whilst  I  was  at  dinner, 
suggesting  that  I  should  be  at  Hillingham  to-night,  as  it 
might  be  well  to  be  at  hand,  and  stating  that  he  was  leav- 
ing by  the  night  mail  and  would  join  me  early  in  the  morn- 

p  September. — I  was  pretty  tired  and  worn  out  when  I 
got  to  Hillingham.  For  two  nights  I  had  hardly  had  a  wink 
of  sleep,  and  my  brain  was  beginning  to  feel  that  numb- 
ness which  marks  cerebral  exhaustion.  Lucy  was  up  and  in 
cheerful  spirits.  When  she  shook  hands  with  me  she  looked 
sharply  in  my  face  and  said : — 

"No  sitting  up  to-night  for  you.  You  are  worn  out.  1 
am  quite  well  again ;  indeed,  I  am ;  and  if  there  is  to  be  any 
sitting  up,  it  is  I  who  will  sit  up  with  you."  I  would  not 

138  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

argue  the  point,  but  went  and  had  my  supper.  Lucy  came 
witli  me,  and,  enlivened  by  her  charming  presence,  I  made 
an  excellent  meal,  and  had  a  couple  of  glasses  of  the  more 
than  excellent  port.  Then  Lucy  took  me  upstairs,  and 
showed  me  a  room  next  her  own,  where  a  cozy  fire  was 
burning.  "Now,"  she  said,  "you  must  stay  here.  I  shall 
leave  this  door  open  and  my  door  too.  You  can  lie  on  the 
sofa  for  I  know  that  nothing  would  induce  any  of  you 
doctors  to  go  to  bed  whilst  there  is  a  patient  above  the  hori- 
son.  If  I  want  anything  I  shall  call  out,  and  you  can  come 
to  me  at  once."  I  could  not  but  acquiesce,  for  I  was  ''dog- 
tired,"  and  could  not  have  sat  up  had  I  tried.  So,  on  her  re- 
newing her  promise  to  call  me  if  she  should  want  anything, 
I  lay  on  the  sofa,  and  forgot  all  about  everything. 

Lucy  Westenras  Diary.    ' 

p  September. — I  feel  so  happy  to-night.  I  have  been  so 
miserably  weak,  that  to  be  able  to  think  and  move  about  is 
like  feeling  sunshine  after  a  long  spell  of  east  wind  out  of 
a  steel  sky.  Somehow  Arthur  feels  very,  very  close  to  me. 
I  seem  to  feel  his  presence  warm  about  me.  I  suppose  it  is 
that  sickness  and  weakness  are  selfish  things  and  turn  our 
inner  eyes  and  sympathy  on  ourselves,  whilst  health  and 
strength  give  Love  rein,  and  in  thought  and  feeling  he  can 
wander  where  he  wills.  I  know  where  my  thoughts  are.  If 
Arthur  only  knew!  My  dear,  my  dear,  your  ears  must 
tingle  as  you  sleep,  as  mine  do  waking.  Oh,  the  blissful 
rest  of  last  night !  How  I  slept,  with  that  dear,  good  Dr. 
Seward  watching  me.  And  to-night  I  shall  not  fear  to 
sleep,  since  he  is  close  at  hand  and  within  call.  Thank 
everybody  for  being  so  good  to  me !  Thank  God !  Good- 
night, Arthur. 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

10  September. — I  was  conscious  of  the  Professor's  hand 
on  my  head,  and  started  awake  all  in  a  second.  That  is  one, 
of  the  things  that  we  learn  in  an  asylum,  at  any  rate. 

"And  how  is  our  patient  ?" 

L  E  T  T  E  R  S  ,    E  T  C  .  139 

"Well,  when  I  left  her,  or  rather  when  she  left  me,"  I 

"Come,  let  us  see,"  he  said.  And  together  we  went  into 
the  room. 

The  blind  was  down,  and  I  went  over  to  raise  it  gently, 
whilst  Van  Helsing  stepped,  with  his  soft,  cat-like  tread, 
over  to  the  bed. 

As  I  raised  the  blind,  and  the  morning  sunlight  flooded 
the  room,  I  heard  the  Professor's  low  hiss  of  inspiration, 
and  knowing  its  rarity,  a  deadly  fear  shot  through  my 
heart.  As  I  passed  over  he  moved  back,  and  his  exclama- 
tion of  horror,  ''Gott  in  Himmel!"  needed  no  enforcement 
from  his  agonised  face.  He  raised  his  hand  and  pointed  to 
the  bed,  and  his  iron  face  was  drawn  and  ashen  white.  I, 
felt  my  knees  begin  to  tremble. 

There  on  the  bed,  seemingly  in  a  swoon,  lay  poor  Lucy, 
more  horribly  white  and  wan-looking  than  ever.  Even  the 
lips  were  white,  and  the  gums  seemed  to  have  shrunken 
back  from  the  teeth,  as  we  sometimes  see  in  a  corpse  after 
a  prolonged  illness.  Van  Helsing  raised  his  foot  to  stamp 
in  anger,  but  the  instinct  of  his  life  and  all  the  long  years 
of  habit  stood  to  him,  and  he  put  it  down  again  softly. 
"Quick !"  he  said.  "Bring  the  brandy."  I  flew  to  the  dining- 
room,  and  returned  with  the  decanter.  He  wetted  the  poor 
white  lips  with  it,  and  together  we  rubbed  palm  and  wrist 
and  heart.  He  felt  her  heart,  and  after  a  few  moments  of 
agonising  suspense  said  : — 

"It  is  not  too  late.  It  beats,  though  but  feebly.  All  our 
work  is  undone ;  we  must  begin  anew.  There  is  no  young 
Arthur  here  now ;  I  have  to  call  on  you  yourself  this  time, 
friend  John."  As  he  spoke,  he  was  dipping  into  his  bag  and 
producing  the  instruments  for  transfusion ;  I  had  taken  off 
my  coat  and  rolled  up  my  shirt-sleeve.  There  was  no  possi- 
bility of  an  opiate  just  at  present,  and  no  need  of  one ;  and 
so,  without  a  moment's  delay,  we  began  the  operation. 
After  a  time — it  did  not  seem  a  short  time  either,  for  the 
draining  away  of  one's  blood,  no  matter  how  willingly  it 
be  given,  is  a  terrible  feeling — Van  Helsing  held  up  a 
warning  finger.  "Do  not  stir,"  he  said,  "but  I  fear  that  with 
growing  strength  she  may  wake ;  and  that  would  make 

140  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

danger,  oh,  so  much  danger.  But  I  shall  precaution  take. 
I  shall  give  hypodermic  injection  of  morphia."  He  pro- 
ceeded then,  swiftly  and  deftly,  to  carry  out  his  intent.  The 
effect  on  Lucy  was  not  bad,  for  the  faint  seemed  to  merge 
subtly  into  the  narcotic  sleep.  It  was  with  a  feeling  of  per- 
sonal pride  that  I  could  see  a  faint  tinge  of  colour  steal 
back  into  the  pallid  cheeks  and  lips.  No  man  knows,  till  he 
experiences  it,  what  it  is  to  feel  his  own  life-blood  drawn 
away  into  the  veins  of  the  woman  he  loves. 

The  Professor  watched  me  critically.  "That  will  do,"  he 
said.  "Already?"  I  remonstrated.  "You  took  a  great  deal 
more  from  Art."  To  which  he  smiled  a  sad  sort  of  smile  as 
he  replied : — 

"He  is  her  lover,  her  fiance.  You  have  work,  much  work, 
to  do  for  her  and  for  others ;  and  the  present  will  suffice." 

When  we  stopped  the  operation,  he  attended  to  Lucy, 
whilst  I  applied  digital  pressure  to  my  own  incision.  I  laid 
down,  whilst  I  waited  his  leisure  to  attend  to  me,  for  I  felt 
faint  and  a  little  sick.  By-and-by  he  bound  up  my  wound, 
and  sent  me  down-stairs  to  get  a  glass  of  wine  for  myself. 
As  I  was  leaving  the  room,  he  came  after  me,  and  half 
whispered : — 

"Mind,  nothing  must  be  said  of  this.  If  our  young  lover 
should  turn  up  unexpected,  as  before,  no  word  to  him.  It 
would  at  once  frighten  him  and  en  jealous  him,  too.  There 
must  be  none.  So !" 

When  I  came  back  he  looked  at  me  carefully,  and  then 
said : — 

"You  are  not  much  the  worse.  Go  into  the  room,  and  lie 
on  your  sofa,  and  rest  awhile ;  then  have  much  breakfast, 
and  come  here  to  me." 

I  followed  out  his  orders,  for  I  knew  how  right  and  wise 
they  were.  I  had  done  my  part,  and  now  my  next  duty  was 
to  keep  up  my  strength.  I  felt  very  weak,  and  in  the  weak- 
ness lost  something  of  the  amazement  at  what  had  oc- 
curred. I  fell  asleep  on  the  sofa,  however,  wondering  over 
and  over  again  how  Lucy  had  made  such  a  retrograde 
movement,  and  how  she  could  have  been  drained  of  so 
much  blood  with  no  sign  anywhere  to  show  for  it.  I  think 
I  must  have  continued  my  wonder  in  my  dreams,  for,  sleep- 

LETTERS,    ETC.  141 

ing  and  waking,  my  thoughts  always  came  back  to  the 
little  punctures  in  her  throat  and  the  ragged,  exhausted 
appearance  of  their  edges — tiny  though  they  were. 

Lucy  slept  well  into  the  ^ay,  and  when  she  woke  she  was 
fairly  well  and  strong,  though  not  nearly  so  much  so  as  the 
day  before.  When  Van  Helsing  had  seen  her,  he  went  out 
for  a  walk,  leaving  me  in  charge,  with  strict  injunctions 
that  I  was  not  to  leave  her  for  a  moment.  I  could  hear  his 
voice  in  the  hall,  asking  the  way  to  the  nearest  telegraph 

Lucy  chatted  with  me  freely,  and  seemed  quite  uncon- 
scious that  anything  had  happened.  I  tried  to  keep  her 
amused  and  interested.  When  her  mother  came  up  to  see 
her,  she  did  not  seem  to  notice  any  change  whatever,  but 
said  to  me  gratefully : — 

*'We  owe  you  so  much,  Dr.  Seward,  for  all  you  have 
done,  but  you  really  must  now  take  care  not  to  overwork 
yourself.  You  are  looking  pale  yourself.  You  want  a  wife 
to  nurse  and  look  after  you  a  bit ;  that  you  do !"  As  she 
spoke,  Lucy  turned  crimson,  though  it  was  only  momen- 
tarily, for  her  poor  wasted  veins  could  not  stand  for  long 
such  an  unwonted  drain  to  the  head.  The  reaction  came  in 
excessive  pallor  as  she  turned  imploring  eyes  on  me.  I 
smiled  and  nodded,  and  laid  my  finger  on  my  lips ;  with  a 
sigh,  she  sank  back  amid  her  pillows. 

Van  Helsing  returned  in  a  couple  of  hours,  and  pres- 
ently said  to  me:  "Now  you  go  home,  and  eat  much  and 
drink  enough.  Make  yourself  strong.  I  stay  here  to-night, 
and  I  shall  sit  up  with  little  miss  myself.  You  and  I  must 
watch  the  case,  and  we  must  have  none  other  to  know.  I 
have  grave  reasons.  No,  do  not  ask  them ;  think  what  you 
will.  Do  not  fear  to  think  even  the  most  not-probable. 

In  the  hall  two  of  the  maids  came  to  me,  and  asked  if 
they  or  either  of  them  might  not  sit  up  with  Miss  Lucy. 
They  implored  me  to  let  them ;  and  when  I  said  it  was  Dr. 
Van  Helsing's  wish  that  either  he  or  I  should  sit  up,  they 
asked  me  quite  piteously  to  intercede  with  the  "foreign 
gentleman."  I  was  much  touched  by  their  kindness.  Per- 
haps it  is  because  I  am  weak  at  present,  and  perhaps  be- 

142  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

cause  it  was  on  Lucy's  account,  that  their  devotion  was 
manifested ;  for  over  and  over  again  have  I  seen  similar 
instances  of  woman's  kindness.  I  got  back  here  in  time  for 
a  late  dinner ;  went  my  rounds — all  well ;  and  set  this 
down  whilst  waiting  for  sleep.  It  is  coming. 

II  September. — This  afternoon  I  went  over  to  Hilling- 
ham.  Found  Van  Helsing  in  excellent  spirits,  and  Lucy 
much  better.  Shortly  after  I  had  arrived,  a  big  parcel  from 
abroad  came  for  the  Professor.  He  opened  it  with  much 
impressment — assumed,  of  course — and  showed  a  great 
bundle  of  white  flowers. 

''These  are  for  you.  Miss  Lucy,"  he  said. 

"For  me  ?  Oh,  Dr.  Van  Helsing !'' 

"Yes,  my  dear,  but  not  for  you  to  play  with.  These  are 
medicines."  Here  Lucy  made  a  wry  face.  "Nay,  but  they 
are  not  to  take  in  a  decoction  or  in  nauseous  form,  so  you 
need  not  snub  that  so  charming  nose,  or  I  shall  point  out 
to  my  friend  Arthur  what  woes  he  may  have  to  endure  in 
seeing  so  much  beauty  that  he  so  loves  so  much  distort. 
Aha,  my  pretty  miss,  that  bring  the  so  nice  nose  all  straight 
again.  This  is  medicinal,  but  you  do  not  know  how.  I  put 
him  in  your  window,  I  make  pretty  wreath,  and  hang  him 
round  your  neck,  so  that  you  sleep  well.  Oh  yes !  they,  like 
the  lotus  flower,  make  your  trouble  forgotten.  It  smell  so 
like  the  waters  of  Lethe,  and  of  that  fountain  of  youth 
that  the  Conquistadores  sought  for  in  the  Floridas,  and 
find  him  all  too  late." 

Whilst  he  was  speaking,  Lucy  had  been  examining  the 
flowers  and  smelling  them. .  Now  she  threw  them  down, 
saying,  with  half -laughter,  and  half-disgust : — 

"Oh,  Professor,  I  believe  you  are  only  putting  up  a  joke 
on  me.  Why,  these  flowers  are  only  common  garlic." 

To  my  surprise,  Van  Helsing  rose  up  and  said  with  all 
his  sternness,  his  iron  jaw  set  and  his  bushy  eyebrows 
meeting : —  , 

"No  trifling  with  me!  I  never  jest!  There  is  grim  pur- 
pose in  all  I  do ;  and  I  warn  you  that  you  do  not  thwart 
me.  Take  care,  for  the  sake  of  others  if  not  for  your  own." 
Then  seeing  poor  Lucy  scared,  as  she  might  well  be,  he 

LETTERS,    ETC.  143 

went  on  more  gently:  "Oh,  little  miss,  my  dear,  do  not 
fear  me.  I  only  do  for  your  good ;  but  there  is  much  virtue 
to  you  in  those  so  common  flowers.  See,  I  place  them  my- 
self in  your  room.  I  make  myself  the  wreath  that  you  are 
to  wear.  But  hush !  no  telling  to  others  that  make  so  in- 
quisitive questions.  We  must  obey,  and  silence  is  a  part  of 
obedience;  and  obedience  is  to  bring  you  strong  and  well 
into  loving  arms  that  wait  for  you.  Now  sit  still  awhile. 
Come  with  me,  friend  John,  and  you  shall  help  me  deck  the 
room  with  my  garlic,  which  is  all  the  way  from  Haarlem, 
where  my  friend  Vanderpool  raise  herb  in  his  glass-houses 
all  the  year.  I  had  to  telegraph  yesterday,  or  they  would 
not  have  been  here." 

We  went  into  the  room,  taking  the  flowers  with  us.  The 
Professor's  actions  were  certainly  odd  and  not  to  be  found 
in  any  pharmacopoeia  that  I  ever  heard  of.  First  he  fas- 
tened up  the  windows  and  latched  them  securely ;  next, 
taking  a  handful  of  the  flowers,  he  rubbed  them  all  over 
the  sashes,  as  though  to  ensure  that  every  whiff  of  air  that 
might  get  in  would  be  laden  with  the  garlic  smell.  Then 
with  the  wisp  he  rubbed  all  over  the  jamb  of  the  door, 
above,  below,  and  at  each  side,  and  round  the  fireplace  in 
the  same  way.  It  all  seemed  grotesque  to  me,  and  presently 
I  said : — 

"Well,  Professor,  I  know  you  always  have  a  reason  for 
what  you  do,  but  this  certainly  puzzles  me.  It  is  well  we 
have  no  sceptic  here,  or  he  would  say  that  you  were  work- 
ing some  spell  to  keep  out  an  evil  spirit." 

"Perhaps  I  am !"  he  answered  quietly  as  he  began  to 
make  the  wreath  which  Lucy  was  to  wear  round  her  neck. 

We  then  waited  whilst  Lucy  made  her  toilet  for  the 
night,  and  when  she  was  in  bed  he  came  and  himself  fixed 
the  wreath  of  garlic  round  her  neck.  The  last  words  he  said 
to  here  were : — 

"Take  care  you  do  not  disturb  it ;  and  even  if  the  room 
feel  close,  do  not  to-night  open  the  window  or  the  door." 

"I  promise,"  said  Lucy,  "and  thank  you  both  a  thousand 
times  for  all  your  kindness  to  me !  Oh,  what  have  I  done  to 
be  blessed  with  such  friends  ?" 


As  we  left  the  house  in  my  fly,  which  was  waiting,  Van 
Helsing  said : — 

"To-night  I  can  sleep  in  peace,  and  sleep  I  want — two 
nights  of  travel,  much  reading  in  the  day  between,  and 
much  anxiety  on  the  day  to  follow,  and  a  night  to  sit  up, 
without  to  wink.  To-morrow  in  the  morning  early  you  call 
for  me,  and  we  come  together  to  see  our  pretty  miss,  so 
much  more  strong  for  my  'spell'  which  I  have  work.  Ho! 

He  seemed  so  confident  that  I,  remembering  my  own 
confidence  two  nights  before  and  with  the  baneful  result, 
felt  awe  and  vague  terror.  It  must  have  been  my  weakness 
that  made  me  hesitate  to  tell  it  to  my  friend,  but  I  felt  it 
all  tJie  more,  like  unshed  tears. 

Lucy  Westenra's  Diary. 

12  September. — How  good  they  all  are  to  me.  I  quit^ 
love  that  dear  Dr.  Van  Helsing.  I  wonder  why  he  was  so 
anxious  about  these  flowers.  He  positively  frightened  me, 
he  was  so  fierce.  And  yet  he  must  have  been  right,  for  I 
feel  comfort  from  them  already.  Somehow,  I  do  not  dread 
being  alone  to-night,  and  I  can  go  to  sleep  without  fear.  I 
shall  not  mind  any  flapping  outside  the  window.  Oh,  the 
terrible  struggle  that  I  have  had  against  sleep  so  often  of 
late ;  the  pain  of  the  sleeplessness,  or  the  pain  of  the  fear 
of  sleep,  with  such  unknown  horrors  as  it  has  for  me! 
How  blessed  are  some  people,  whose  lives  have  no  fears, 
no  dreads ;  to  whom  sleep  is  a  blessing  that  comes  nightly, 
and  brings  nothing  but  sweet  dreams.  Well,  here  I  am  to- 
night, hoping  for  sleep,  and  lying  like  Ophelia  in  the  play, 
with  "virgin  crants  and  maiden  strewments,"  I  never  liked 
garlic  before,  but  to-night  it  is  delightful !  There  is  peace 
in  its  smell ;  I  feel  sleep  coming  already.  Good-night,  every- 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

/J  September. — Called  at  the  Berkeley  and  found  Van 
Helsing,  as  usual,  up  to  time.  The  carriage  ordered  from 
the  hotel  was  waiting.  The  Professor  took  his  bag,  which 
he  always  brings  with  him  now. 

Let  all  be  put  down  exactly.  Van  Helsing  and  I  arrived 
at  Hillingham  at  eight  o'clock.  It  was  a  lovely  morning; 
the  bright  sunshine  and  all  the  fresh  feeling  of  early 
autumn  seemed  like  the  completion  of  nature's  annual 
work.  The  leaves  were  turning  to  all  kinds  of  beautiful 
colours,  but  had  not  yet  begun  to  drop  from  the  trees. 
When  we  entered  we  met  Mrs.  Westenra  coming  out  of 


146  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

the  morning  room.  She  is  ahvays  an  early  riser.  She 
greeted  us  warmly  and  said : — 

"You  will  be  glad  to  know  that  Lucy  is  better.  The  dear 
child  is  still  asleep.  I  looked  into  her  room  and  saw  her, 
but  did  not  go  in,  lest  I  should  disturb  her."  The  Professor 
smiled,  and  looked  quite  jubilant.  He  rubbed  his  hands  to- 
gether, and  said : — 

"Aha !  I  thought  I  had  diagnosed  the  case.  My  treatment 
is  working,"  to  which  she  answered : — 

"You  must  not  take  all  the  credit  to  yourself,  doctor. 
Lucy's  state  this  morning  is  due  in  part  to  me." 

"How  you  do  mean,  ma'am?"  asked  the  Professor. 

"Well,  I  was  anxious  about  the  dear  child  in  the  night, 
and  went  into  her  room.  She  was  sleeping  soundly — so 
soundly  that  even  my  coming  did  not  wake  her.  But  the 
room  was  awfully  stuffy.  There  were  a  lot  of  those  horri- 
ble, strong-smelling  flowers  about  everywhere,  and  she  had 
actually  a  bunch  of  them  round  her  neck.  I  feared  that  the 
heavy  odour  would  be  too  much  for  the  dear  child  in  her 
weak  state,  so  I  took  them  all  away  and  opened  a  bit  of  the 
window  to  let  in  a  little  fresh  air.  You  will  be  pleased  with 
her,  I  am  sure." 

She  moved  off  into  her  boudoir,  where  she  usually  break- 
fasted early.  As  she  had  spoken,  I  watched  the  Professor's 
face,  and  saw  it  turn  ashen  grey.  He  had  been  able  to  re- 
tain his  self-command  whilst  the  poor  lady  was  present, 
for  he  knew  her  state  and  how  mischievous  a  shock  would 
be ;  he  actually  smiled  on  her  as  he  held  open  the  door  for 
her  to  pass  into  her  room.  But  the  instant  she  had  disap- 
peared he  pulled  me,  suddenly  and  forcibly,  into  the  dining- 
room  and  closed  the  door. 

Then  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  saw  Van  Helsing 
break  down.  He  raised  his  hands  over  his  head  in  a  sort  of 
mute  despair,  and  then  beat  his  palms  together  in  a  help- 
less way;  finally  he  sat  down  on  a  chair,  and  putting  his 
hands  before  his  face,  began  to  sob,  with  loud,  dry  sobs 
that  seemed  to  come  from  the  very  racking  of  his  heart. 
Then  he  raised  his  arms  again,  as  though  appealing  to  the 
whole  universe.  "God!  God!  God!"  he  said.  "What  have 
we  done,  what  has  this  poor  thing  done,  that  we  are  so  sore 

LETTERS,    ETC.  147 

beset  ?  Is  there  fate  amongst  us  still,  sent  down  from  the 
pagan  world  of  old,  that  such  things  must  be,  and  in  such 
way?  This  poor  mother,  all  unknowing,  and  all  for  the 
best  as  she  think,  does  such  thing  as  lose  her  daughter 
body  and  soul ;  and  we  must  not  tell  her,  we  must  not  even 
warn  her,  or  she  die,  and  then  both  die.  Oh,  how  we  are 
beset !  How  are  all  the  powers  of  the  devils  against  us !" 
Suddenly  he  jumped  to  his  feet.  "Come,"  he  said,  "come, 
we  must  see  and  act.  Devils  or  no  devils,  or  all  the  devils 
at  once,  it  matters  not;  we  fight  him  all  the  same."  He 
went  to  the  hall-door  for  his  bag ;  and  together  we  went  up 
to  Lucy's  room. 

Once  again  I  drew  up  the  blind,  whilst  Van  Helsing 
went  towards  the  bed.  This  time  he  did  not  start  as  he 
looked  on  the  poor  face  with  the  same  awful,  waxen  pallor 
as  before.  He  wore  a  look  of  stern  sadness  and  infinite 

"As  I  expected,"  he  murmured,  with  that  hissing  in- 
spiration of  his  which  meant  so  much.  Without  a  word  he 
went  and  locked  the  door,  and  then  began  to  set  out  on 
the  little  table  the  instruments  for  yet  another  operation  of 
transfusion  of  blood.  I  had  long  ago  recognised  the  neces- 
sity, and  begun  to  take  off  my  coat,  but  he  stopped  me 
with  a  warning  hand.  "No!"  he  said.  "To-day  you  must 
operate.  I  shall  provide.  You  are  weakened  already."  As  he 
spoke  he  took  off  his  coat  and  rolled  up  his  shirtsleeve. 

Again  the  operation ;  again  the  narcotic ;  again  some  re- 
turn of  colour  to  the  ashy  cheeks,  and  the  regular  breath- 
ing of  healthy  sleep.  This  time  I  watched  whilst  Van  Hel- 
sing recruited  himself  and  rested. 

Presently  he  took  an  opportunity  of  telling  Mrs.  Wes- 
tenra  that  she  must  not  remove  anything  from  Lucy's 
room  without  consulting  him ;  that  the  flowers  were  of 
medicinal  value,  and  that  the  breathing  of  their  odour  was 
a  part  of  the  system  of  cure.  Then  he  took  over  the  care 
of  the  case  himself,  saying  that  he  would  watch  this  night 
and  the  next  and  would  send  me  word  when  to  come. 

After  another  hour  Lucy  waked  from  her  sleep,  fresh 
and  bright  and  seemingly  not  much  the  worse  for  her  ter- 
rible ordeal. 

148  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

What  does  it  all  mean?  I  am  beginning  to  wonder  if  my 
long  habit  of  life  amongst  the  insane  is  beginning  to  tell 
upon  my  own  brain. 

Lucy  Westenra's- Diary. 

ly  September. — Four  days  and  nights  of  peace.  I  am  get- 
ting so  strong  again  that  I  hardly  know  myself.  It  is  as  if 
I  had  passed  through  some  long  nightmare,  and  had  just 
awakened  to  see  the  beautiful  sunshine  and  feel  the  fresh 
air  of  the  morning  around  me.  I  have  a  dim  half- 
remembrance  of  long,  anxious  times  of  waiting  and  fear- 
ing ;  darkness  in  which  there  was  not  even  the  pain  of  hope 
to  make  present  distress  more  poignant:  and  then  long 
spells  of  oblivion,  and  the  rising  back  to  life  as  a  diver 
coming  up  through  a  great  press  of  water.  Since,  however, 
Dr.  Van  Helsing  has  been  with  me,  all  this  bad  dreaming 
seems  to  have  passed  away ;  the  noises  that  used  to  frighten 
me  out  of  my  wits — the  flapping  against  the  windows,  the 
distant  voices  which  seemed  so  close  to  me,  the  harsh 
sounds  that  came  from  I  know  not  where  and  commanded 
me  to  do  I  know  not  what — ^have  all  ceased.  I  go  to  bed 
now  without  any  fear  of  sleep.  I  do  not  even  try  to  keep 
awake.  I  have  grown  quite  fond  of  the  garlic,  and  a  boxful 
arrives  for  me  every  day  from  Haarlem.  To-night  Dr.  Van 
Helsing  is  going  away,  as  he  has  to  be  for  a  day  in  Am- 
sterdam. But  I  need  not  be  watched ;  I  am  well  enough  to 
be  left  alone.  X^ank  God  for  mother's  sake,  and  dear 
Arthur's,  and  for  all  our  friends  who  have  been  so  kind ! 
I  shall  not  even  feel  the  change,  for  last  night  Dr.  Van 
Helsing  slept  in  his  chair  a  lot  of  the  time.  I  found  him 
asleep  twice  when  I  awoke;  but  I  did  not  fear  to  go  to 
sleep  again,  although  the  boughs  or  bats  or  something 
flapped  almost  angrily  against  the  window-panes. 

"The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  i8  September. 


Interview  ivith  the  Keeper  in  the  Zoological  Gardens. 

LETTERS,     ETC.  149 

After  many  inquiries  and  almost  as  many  refusals,  and 
perpetually  using  the  words  "Pall  Mall  Gazette"  as  a  sort 
of  talisman,  I  managed  to  find  the  keeper  of  the  section  of 
the  Zoological  Gardens  in  which  the  wolf  department  is  in- 
cluded. Thomas  Bilder  lives  in  one  of  the  cottages  in  the 
enclosure  behind  the  elephant-house,  and  was  just  sitting 
down  to  his  tea  when  I  found  him.  Thomas  and  his  wife 
are  hospitable  folk,  elderly,  and  without  children,  and  if 
the  specimen  I  enjoyed  of  their  hospitality  be  of  the  aver- 
age kind,  their  lives  must  be  pretty  comfortable.  The 
keeper  would  not  enter  on  what  he  called  "business"  until 
the  supper  was  over,  and  we  were  all  satisfied.  Then  when 
the  table  was  cleared,  and  he  had  lit  his  pipe,  he  said : — 

"Now,  sir,  you  can  go  on  and  arsk  me  what  you  want. 
You'll  excoose  me  refoosin'  to  talk  of  perfeshunal  subjects 
afore  meals.  I  gives  the  wolves  and  the  jackals  and  the 
hyenas  in  all  our  section  their  tea  afore  I  begins  to  arsk 
them  questions." 

"How  do  you  mean,  ask  them  questions?"  I  queried, 
wishful  to  get  him  into  a  talkative  humour. 

"  Tttin'  of  them  over  the  'ead  with  a  pole  is  one  way ; 
scratchin'  of  their  hears  is  another,  when  gents  as  is  flush 
wants  a  bit  of  a  show-orf  to  their  gals.  I  don't  so  much 
mind  the  fust — ^the  'ittin'  with  a  pole  afore  I  chucks  in  their 
dinner ;  but  I  waits  till  they've  'ad  their  sherry  and  kawf- 
fee,  so  to  speak,  afore  I  tries  on  with  the  ear-scratchin'. 
Mind  you,"  he  added  philosophically,  "there's  a  deal  of  the 
same  nature  in  us  as  in  them  theer  animiles.  Here's  you 
a-comin'  and  arskin'  of  me  questions  about  my  business, 
and  I  that  grumpy-like  that  only  for  your  bloomin'  'arf- 
quid  I'd  'a'  seen  you  blowed  fust  'fore  I'd  answer.  Not 
even  when  you  arsked  me  sarcastic-like  if  I'd  like  you  to 
arsk  the  Superintendent  if  you  might  arsk  me  questions. 
Without  offence  did  I  tell  yer  to  go  to  'ell  ?" 

"You  did." 

"An'  when  you  said  you'd  report  me  for  usin'  of  obscene 
language  that  was  'ittin'  me  over  the  'ead ;  but  the  'arf- 
quid  made  that  all  right.  I  weren't  a-goin'  to  fight,  so  I 
waited  for  the  food,  and  did  with  my  'owl  as  the  wolves, 
and  lions,  and  tigers  does.  But,  Lor'  love  yer  'art,  now  that 

ISO  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

the  old  'ooman  has  stuck  a  chunk  of  her  tea-cake  in  me,  an* 
rinsed  me  out  with  her  bloomin'  old  teapot,  and  I've  lit  hup, 
you  may  scratch  my  ears  for  all  you're  worth,  and  won't 
git  even  a  growl  out  of  me.  Drive  along  with  your  ques- 
tions. I  know  what  yer  a-comin'  at,  that  'ere  escaped  wolf." 

"Exactly.  I  want  you  to  give  me  your  view  of  it.  Just 
tell  me  how  it  happened ;  and  when  I  know  the  facts  I'll 
get  you  to  say  what  you  consider  was  the  cause  of  it,  and 
how  you  think  the  whole  affair  will  end." 

"All  right,  guv'nor.  This  'ere  is  about  the  'ole  story. 
That  'ere  wolf  what  we  called  Bersicker  was  one  of  three 
grey  ones  that  came  from  Norway  to  Jamrach's,  which  we 
bought  off  him  four  years  ago.  He  was  a  nice  well-behaved 
wolf,  that  never  gave  no  trouble  to  talk  of.  I'm  more  sur- 
prised at  'im  for  wantin'  to  get  out  nor  any  other  animile 
in  the  place.  But,  there,  you  can't  trust  wolves  no  more  nor 

"Don't  you  mind  him,  sir !"  broke  in  Mrs.  Tom,  with  a 
cheery  laugh.  "  'E's  got  mindin'  the  animiles  so  long  that 
blest  if  he  ain't  like  a  old  wolf  'isself !  But  there  ain't  no 
'arm  in  'im." 

"Well,  sir,  it  was  about  two  hours  after  feedin'  yester- 
day when  I  first  hear  my  disturbance.  I  was  makin'  up  a 
litter  in  the  monkey-house  for  a  young  puma  which  is  ill ; 
but  when  I  heard  the  yelpin'  and  'owlin'  I  kem  away 
straight.  There  was  Bersicker  a-tearin'  like  a  mad  thing  at 
the  bars  as  if  he  wanted  to  get  out.  There  wasn't  much 
people  about  that  day,  and  close  at  hand  was  only  one  man, 
a  tall,  thin  chap,  with  a  'ook  nose  and  a  pointed  beard,  with 
a  few  white  hairs  runnin'  through  it.  He  had  a  'ard,  cold 
look  and  red  eyes,  and  I  took  a  sort  of  mislike  to  him,  for 
it  seemed  as  if  it  was  'im  as  they  was  hirritated  at.  He  'ad 
white  kid  gloves  on  'is  'ands,  and  he  pointed  out  the  ani- 
miles to  me  and  says :  'Keeper,  these  wolves  seem  upset  at 

"  'Maybe  it's  you,'  says  I,  for  I  did  not  like  the  airs  as 
he  give  'isself.  He  didn't  git  angry,  as  I  'oped  he  would, 
but  he  smiled  a  kind  of  insolent  smile,  with  a  mouth  full  of 
white,  sharp  teeth.  'Oh  no.  they  wouldn't  like  me,'  'e  says. 

"  'Ow  yes,  they  would,'  says  I,  a-imitatin'  of  him.  'They 

L  E  T  T  E  R  S  ,    E  T  C  .  151 

always  like  a  bone  or  two  to  clean  their  teeth  on  about  tea- 
time,  which  you  'as  a  bagful.' 

"Well,  it  was  a  odd  thing,  but  when  the  animiles  see  us 
a-talkin'  they  lay  down,  and  when  I  went  over  to  Bersickef 
he  let  me  stroke  his  ears  same  as  ever.  That  there  man 
kem  over,  and  blessed  but  if  he  didn't  put  in  his  hand  and 
stroke  the  old  wolf's  ears  too ! 

"  'Tyke  care,'  says  I.  'Bersicker  is  quick.' 
•    **  'Never  mind,'  he  says.  T'm  used  to  'em !' 

"  'Are  you  in  the  business  yourself  ?'  I  says,  tyking  oflf 
my  'at,  for  a  man  what  trades  in  wolves,  anceterer,  is  a 
good  friend  to  keepers. 

"  'No,'  says  he,  'not  exactly  in  the  business,  but  I  'ave 
made  pets  of  several.'  And  with  that  he  lifts  his  'at  as  per- 
lite  as  a  lord,  and  walks  away.  Old  Bersicker  kep'  a-lookin' 
arter  'im  till  'e  was  out  of  sight,  and  then  went  and  lay 
down  in  a  corner  and  wouldn't  come  hout  the  'ole  heve- 
ning.  Well,  larst  night,  so  soon  as  the  moon  was  hup,  the 
wolves  here  all  began  a-'owling.  There  warn't  nothing  for 
them  to  'owl  at.  There  warn't  no  one  near,  except  some 
one  that  was  evidently  a-callin'  a  dog  somewheres  out  back 
of  the  gardings  in  the  Park  road.  Once  or  twice  I  went  out 
to  see  that  all  was  right,  and  it  was,  and  then  the  'owling 
stopped.  Just  before  twelve  o'clock  I  just  took  a  look  round 
afore  turnin'  in,  an',  bust  me,  but  when  I  kem  opposite  to 
old  Bersicker's  cage  I  see  the  rails  broken  and  twisted 
about  and  the  cage  empty.  And  that's  all  I  know  for  cert- 

"Did  any  one  else  see  anything?" 

"One  of  our  gard'ners  was  a-comin'  'ome  about  that  time 
from  a  'armony,  when  he  sees  a  big  grey  dog  comin'  out 
through  the  garding  'edges.  At  least,  so  he  says,  but  I  don't 
give  much  for  it  myself,  for  if  he  did  'e  never  said  a  word 
about  it  to  his  missis  when  'e  got  'ome,  and  it  was  only 
after  the  escape  of  the  wolf  was  made  known,  and  we  had 
been  up  all  night-a-huntin'  of  the  Park  for  Bersicker,  that 
he  remembered  seein'  anything.  My  own  belief  was  that 
the  'armony  'ad  got  into  his  'ead." 

"Now,  Mr.  Bilder,  can  you  account  in  any  way  for  the 
escape  of  the  wolf  ?" 


"Well,  sir,"  he  said,  with  a  suspicious  sort  of  modesty, 
**I  think  I  can ;  but  I  don't  know  as  'ow  you'd  be  satisfied 
with  the  theory." 

''Certainly  I  shall.  If  a  man  like  you,  who  knows  the  ani- 
mals from  experience,  can't  hazard  a  good  guess  at  any 
rate,  who  is  even  to  try  ?" 

"Well  then,  sir,  I  accounts  for  it  this  way ;  it  seems  to 
me  that  'ere  wolf  escaped — simply  because  he  wanted  to 
get  out." 

From  the  hearty  way  that  both  Thomas  and  his  wife 
laughed  at  the  joke  I  could  see  that  it  had  done  service  be- 
fore, and  that  the  whole  explanation  was  simply  an  elabo- 
rate sell.  I  couldn't  cope  in  badinage  with  the  worthy 
Thomas,  but  I  thought  I  knew  a  surer  way  to  his  heart,  so 
I  said : — 

"Now,  Mr.  Bilder,  we'll  consider  that  first  half- 
sovereign  worked  ofif,  and  this  brother  of  his  is  waiting  to 
be  claimed  when  you've  told  me  what  you  think  will  hap- 

"Right  y'are,  sir,"  he  said  briskly.  "Ye'll  excoose  me,  I 
know,  for  a-chaffin'  of  ye,  but  the  old  woman  here  winked 
at  me,  which  was  as  much  as  telling  me  to  go  on." 

"Well,  I  never!"  said  the  old  lady. 

"My  opinion  is  this :  that  'ere  wolf  is  a-'idin'  of,  some- 
wheres.  The  gard'ner  wot  didn't  remember  said  he  was 
a-gallopin'  northward  faster  than  a  horse  could  go ;  but  I 
don't  believe  him,  for,  yer  see,  sir,  wolves  don't  gallop  no 
more  nor  dogs  does,  they  not  bein'  built  that  way.  Wolves 
is  fine  things  in  a  story-book,  and  I  dessay  when  they  gets 
in  packs  and  does  be  chivyin'  somethin'  that's  more  af  eared 
than  they  is  they  can  make  a  devil  of  a  noise  and  chop  it 
up,  whatever  it  is.  But,  Lor'  bless  you,  in  real  life  a  wolf  is 
only  a  low  creature,  not  half  so  clever  or  bold  as  a  good 
dog ;  and  not  half  a  quarter  so  much  fight  in  'im.  This  one 
ain't  been  used  to  fightin'  or  even  to  providin'  for  hisself, 
and  more  like  he's  somewhere  round  the  Park  a-'idin'  an' 
a-shiverin'  of,  and,  if  he  thinks  at  all,  wonderin'  where  he 
is  to  get  his  breakfast  from ;  or  maybe  he's  got  down  some 
area  and  is  in  a  coal-cellar.  My  eye,  won't  some  cook  get 

LETTERS,    ETC.  153 

a  rum  start  when  she  sees  his  green  eyes  a-shining  at  her 
out  of  the  dark!  If  he  can't  get  food  he's  bound  to  look 
for  it,  and  mayhap  he  may  chance  to  Hght  on  a  butcher's 
shop  in  time.  If  he  doesn't,  and  some  nursemaid  goes 
a-walkin'  orf  with  a  soldier,  leavin'  of  the  hinfant  in  the 
perambulator — well,  then  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  the 
census  is  one  babby  the  less.  That's  all." 

I  was  handing  him  the  half-sovereign,  when  something 
came  bobbing*  up  against  the  window,  and  Mr.  Bilder's 
face  doubled  its  natural  length  with  surprise. 

"God  bless  me!"  he  said.  "If  there  ain't  old  Bersicker 
come  back  by  'isself !" 

He  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it ;  a  most  unnecessary 
proceeding  it  seemed  to  me.  I  have  always  thought  that  a 
wild  animal  never  looks  so  well  as  when  some  obstacle  of 
pronounced  durability  is  between  us ;  a  personal  experi- 
ence has  intensified  rather  than  diminished  tfiat  idea. 

After  all,  however,  there  is  nothing  like  custom,  for  nei- 
ther Bilder  nor  his  wife  thought  any  more  of  the  wolf 
than  I  should  of  a  dog.  The  animal  itself  was  as  peaceful 
and  well-behaved  as  that  father  of  all  picture-wolves — 
Red  Riding  Hood's  quondam  friend,  whilst  moving  her 
confidence  in  masquerade. 

The  whole  scene  was  an  unutterable  mixture  of  comedy 
and  pathos.  The  wicked  wolf  that  for  half  a  day  had  para- 
lysed London  and  set  all  the  children  in  the.  town  shivering 
in  their  shoes,  was  there  in  a  sort  of  penitent  mood,  and 
was  received  and  petted  like  a  sort  of  vulpine  prodigal  son. 
Old  Bilder  examined  him  all  over  with  most  tender  solici- 
tude, and  when  he  had  finished  with  his  penitent  said : — 

"There,  I  knew  the  poor  old  chap  would  get  into  some 
kind  of  trouble ;  didn't  I  say  it  all  along  ?  Here's  his  head 
all  cut  and  full  of  broken  glass.  'E's  been  a-gettin'  over 
some  bloomin'  wall  or  other.  It's  a  shyme  that  people  are 
allowed  to  top  their  walls  with  broken  bottles.  This  'ere's 
what  comes  of  it.  Come  along,  Bersicker." 

He  took  the  wolf  and  locked  him  up  in  a  cage,  with  a 
piece  of  meat  that  satisfied,  in  quantity  at  any  rate,  the  ele- 


mentary  conditions  of  the  fatted  calf,  and  went  off  to  re- 

I  came  off,  too,  to  report  the  only  exclusive  information 
that  IS  given  to-day  regarding  the  strange  escapade  at  the 


Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

17  September. — I  was  engaged  after  dinner  in  my  study 
postmg  up  my  books,  which,  through  press  of  other  work 
and  the  many  visits  to  Lucy,  had  fallen  sadly  into  arrear. 
Suddenly  the  door  was  burst  open,  and  in  rushed  my  pa- 
tient, with  his  face  distorted  with  passion.  I  was  thunder- 
struck, for  such  a  thing  as  a  patient  getting  of  his  own 
accord  into  the  Superintendent's  study  is  almost  unknown. 
Without  an  instant's  pause  he  made  straight  at  me.  He  had 
a  dinner-knife  in  his  hand,  and,  as  I  saw  he  was  dangerous, 
I  tried  to  keep  the  table  between  us.  He  was  too  quick  and 
too  strong  for  me,  however;  for  before  I  could  get  my 
balance  he  had  struck  at  me  and  cut  my  left  wrist  rather 
severely.  Before  he  could  strike  again,  however,  I  got  in 
my  right  and  he  was  sprawling  on  his  back  on  the  floor. 
My  wrist  bled  freely,  and  quite  a  little  pool  trickled  on  to 
the  carpet.  I  saw  that  my  friend  was  not  intent  on  further 
effort,  and  occupied  myself  binding  up  my  wrist,  keeping 
a  wary  eye  on  the  prostrate  figure  all  the  time.  When  the 
attendants  rushed  in,  and  we  turned  our  attention  to  him, 
his  employment  positively  sickened  me.  He  was  lying  on 
his  bellv  on  the  floor  licking  up,  like  a  dog,  the  blood  which 
had  fallen  from  my  wounded  wrist.  He  was  easily  secured, 
and,  to  my  surprise,  went  with  the  attendants  quite  plac- 
idly, simply  repeating  over  and  over  again :  'The  blood  is 
the  life!  The  blood  is  the  life!" 

I  cannot  afford  to  lose  blood  just  at  present ;  I  have  lost 
too  much  of  late  for  my  physical  good,  and  then  the  pro- 
longed strain  of  Lucy's  illness  and  its  horrible  phases  is 
telling  on  me.  I  am  over-excited  and  weary,  and  I  need 
rest,  rest,  rest.  Happily  Van  Helsing  has  not  summoned 
me,  so  I  need  not  forego  my  sleep ;  to-night  I  could  not 
well  do  without  it. 

L  E  T  T  E  R  S  ,    E  T  C  .  rS5 

Telegram,  Van  Helsing,  Antwerp,  to  Seward,  Carfax. 

(Sent  to  Carfax,  Sussex,  as  no  county  given;  delivered 
late  by  twenty-two  hours. ) 

"17  September.— Do  not  fail  to  be  at  Hillingham  to- 
night. If  not  watching  all  the  time  frequently,  visit  and  see 
that  flowers  are  as  placed;  very  important ;  do  ^not  fail. 
Shall  be  with  you  as  soon  as  possible  after  arrival." 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

18  September.— Just  off  for  train  to  London.  The  arrival 
of  Van  Helsing's  telegram  filled  me  with  dismay.  A  whole 
night  lost,  and  I  know  by  bitter  experience  what  may  hap- 
pen in  a  night.  Of  course  it  is  possible  that  all  may  be  well, 
but  what  may  have  happened  ?  Surely  there  is  some  horri- 
ble doom  hanging  over  us  that  every  possible  accident 
should  thwart  us  in  all  we  try  to  do.  I  shall  take  this  cylin- 
der with  me,  and  then  I  can  complete  my  entry  on  Lucy's 

Memorandum  left  by  Lucy  Westenra. 

77  September.  Night. — I  write  this  and  leave  it  to  be 
seen,  so  that  no  one  may  by  any  chance  get  into  trouble 
through  me.  This  is  an  exact  record  of  what  took  place  to- 
night. I  feel  I  am  dyin^  of  weakness,  and  have  barely 
strength  to  write,  but  it  must  be  done  if  I  die  in  the  doing. 

I  went  to  bed  as  usual  taking  care  that  the  flowers  were 
placed  as  Dr.  Van  Helsing  directed,  and  soon  fell  asleep. 

I  was  waked  by  the  flapping  at  the  window,  which  had 
begun  after  that  sleep-walking  on  the  cliff  at  Whitby  when 
Mina  saved  me,  and  which  now  I  know  so  well.  I  was  not 
afraid,  but  I  did  wish  that  Dr.  Seward  was  in  the  next 
room — as  Dr.  Van  Melsing  said  he  would  be — so  that  I 
might  have  called  him.  I  tried  to  go  t6  sleep,  but  could  not. 
Then  there  came  to  me  the  old  fear  of  sleep,  and  I  de- 
termined to  keep  awake.  Perversely  sleep  would  try  to 
come  then  when  I  did  not  want  it;  so,  as  I  feared  to  be 


alone,  I  m^ened  my  door  and  called  out :  "Is  there  anybody 
there  ?"  There  was  no  answer.  I  was  afraid  to  wake  mother, 
and  so  closed  my  door  again.  Then  outside  in  the  shrub- 
bery I  heard  a  sort  of  howl  like  a  dog's,  but  more  fierce 
and  deeper.  I  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out,  but 
could  see  nothing,  except  a  big  bat,  which  had  evidently 
been  buffeting  its  wings  against  the  window.  So  I  went 
back  to  bed  again,  but  determined  not  to  go  to  sleep.  Pres- 
ently the  door  opened,  and  mother  looked  in ;  seeing  by 
my  moving  that  I  was  not  asleep,  came  in,  and  sat  by  me. 
She  said  to  me  even  more  sweetly  and  softly  than  her 
wont : — 

**I  was  imeasy  about  you,  darling,  and  came  in  to  see 
that  you  were  all  right." 

I  feared  she  might  catch  cold  sitting  there,  and  asked  her 
to  come  in  and  sleep  with  me,  so  she  came  into  bed,  and  lay 
down  beside  me ;  she  did  not  take  off  her  dressing  gown, 
for  she  said  she  would  only  stay  a  while  and  then  go  back 
to  her  own  bed.  As  she  lay  there  in  my  arms,  and  I  in  hers, 
the  flapping  and  buffeting  came  to  the  window  again.  She 
was  startled  and  a  little  frightened,  and  cried  out :  "What 
is  that?"  I  tried  to  pacify  her,  and  at  last  succeeded,  and 
she  lay  quiet;  but  I  could  hear  her  poor  dear  heart  still 
beating  terribly.  After  a  while  there  was  the  low  howl 
again  out  in  the  shrubbery,  and  shortly  after  there  was  a 
crash  at  the  window,  and  a  lot  of  broken  glass  was  hurled 
on  the  floor.  The  window  blind  blew  back  with  the  wind 
that  rushed  in,  and  in  the  aperture  of  the  broken  panes 
there  was  the  head  of  a  great,  gaunt  grey  wolf.  Mother 
cried  out  in  a  fright,  and  struggled  up  into  a  sitting  pos- 
ture, and  clutched  wildly  at  anything  that  would  help  her. 
Amongst  other  things,  she  clutched  the  wreath  of  flowers 
that  Dr.  Van  Helsing  insisted  on  my  wearing  round  my 
neck,  and  tore  it  away  from  me.  For  a  second  or  two  she 
sat  up,  pointing  at  the  wolf,  and  there  was  a  strange  and 
horrible  gurgling  in  her  throat;  then  she  fell  over — ^as  if 
struck  with  lightning,  and  her  head  hit  my  forehead  and 
made  me  dizzy  for  a  moment  or  two.  The  room  and  all 
round  seemed  to  spin  round.  I  kept  my  eyes  fixed  on  the 
window,  but  the  wolf  drew  his  head  back,  and  a  whole 

L  E  T  T  E  R  S  ,    E  T  C  .  i57 

myriad  of  little  specks  seemed  to  come  blowing  in  through 
the  broken  window,  and  wheeling  and  circling  round  hke 
the  pillar  of  dust  that  travellers  describe  when  there  is  a 
simoon  in  the  desert.  I  tried  to  stir,  but  there  was  some 
spell  upon  me,  and  dear  mother's  poor  body,  which  seemed 
to  grow  cold  already— for  her  dear  heart  had  ceased  to 
beat— weighed  me  down ;  and  I  remembered  no  more  for  a 

^  The  time  did  not  seem  long,  but  very,  very  awful,  till  I 
recovered  consciousness  again.  Somewhere  near  a  passing 
bell  was  tolling;  the  dogs  all  round  the  neighbourhood 
were  howling;  and  in  our  shrubbery,  seemingly  just  out- 
side, a  nightingale  was  singing.  I  was  dazed  and  stupid 
with  pain  and  terror  and  weakness,  but  the  sound  of  the 
nightingale  seemed  like  the  voice  of  my  dead  mother  come 
back  to  comfort  me.  The  sounds  seemed  to  have  awakened 
the  maids,  too,  for  I  could  hear  their  bare  feet  pattering 
outside  my  door.  I  called  to  them,  and  they  came  m,  and 
when  they  saw  what  had  happened,  and  what  it  was  that 
lay  over  me  on  the  bed,  they  screamed  out    The  wind 
rushed   in   through   the   broken   window,   and   the   door 
slammed  to.  They  lifted  of¥  the  body  of  my  dear  mother 
and  laid  her,  covered  up  with  a  sheet,  on  the  bed  after  1 
had  got  up.  They  were  all  so  frightened  and  nervous  that 
I  directed  them  to  go  to  the  dining-room  and  have  each  a 
glass  of  wine.  The  door  flew  open  for  an  instant  and 
closed  again.  The  maids  shrieked,  and  then  went  m  a  body 
to  the  dining-room;  and  I  laid  what  flowers  I  had  on  my 
dear  mother's  breast.  When  they  were  there  I  remembered 
what  Dr.  Van  Helsing  had  told  me,  but  I  didn  t  like  to  re- 
move them,  and,  besides,  I  would  have  some  of  the  servants 
to  sit  up  with  me  now.  I  was  surprised  that  the  maids  did 
not  come  back.  I  called  them,  but  got  no  answer,  so  I  went 
to  the  dining-room  to  look  for  them. 

My  heart  sank  when  I  saw  what  had  happened.  A  hey  all 
four  lay  helpless  on  the  floor,  breathing  heavily.  The  de- 
canter of  sherry  was  on  the  table  half  full,  but  there  was 
a  queer,  acrid  smell  about.  I  was  suspicious,  and  examined 
the  decanter.  It  smelt  of  laudanum,  and  looking  on  the 
sideboard,  I  found  that  the  bottle  which  mother  s  doctor 

158  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

uses  for  her — oh !  did  use — was  empty.  What  am  I  to  do  ? 
what  am  I  to  do?  I  am  back  in  the  room  with  mother.  I 
cannot  leave  her,  and  I  am  alone,  save  for  the  sleeping 
servants,  whom  some  one  has  drugged.  Alone  with  the 
dead !  I  dare  not  go  out,  for  I  can  hear  the  low  howl  of  the 
wolf  through  the  broken  window. 

The  air  seems  full  of  specks,  floating  and  circling  in  the 
draught  from  the  window,  and  the  lights  burn  blue  and 
dim.  What  am  I  to  do?  God  shield  me  from  harm  this 
night !  I  shall  hide  this  paper  in  my  breast,  where  they  shall 
find  it  when  they  come  to  lay  me  out.  My  dear  mother 
gone !  It  is  time  that  I  go  too.  Good-bye,  dear  Arthur,  if  I 
should  not  survive  this  night.  God  keep  you,  dear,  and  God 
help  me! 

DR.  Seward's  diary 

i8  September.— I  drove  at  once  to  Hillingham  and  ar- 
rived early.  Keeping  my  cab  at  the  gate,  I  went  up  the  ave- 
nue alone.  I  knocked  gently  and  rang  as  quietly  as  possible, 
for  I  feared  to  disturb  Lucy  or  her  mother,  and  hoped  to 
only  bring  a  servant  to  the  door.  After  a  while,  findmg  no 
response,  I  knocked  and  rang  again;  still  no  answer.  I 
cursed  the  laziness  of  the  servants  that  they  should  he  abed 
at  such  an  hour — for  it  was  now  ten  o'clock — and  so  rang 
and  knocked  again,  but  more  impatiently,  but  still  without 
response.  Hitherto  I  had  blamed  only  the  servants,  but 
now  a  terrible  fear  began  to  assail  me.  Was  this  desola- 
tion but  another  link  in  the  chain  of  doom  which  seemed 
drawing  tight  around  us  ?  Was  it  indeed  a  house  of  death 
to  which  I  had  come,  too  late  ?  I  knew  that  minutes,  even 
seconds  of  delay,  might  mean  hours  of  danger  to  Lucy,  if 
she  had  had  again  one  of  those  frightful  relapses ;  and  I 
went  round  the  house  to  try  if  I  could  find  by  chance  an 
entry  anywhere. 

I  could  find  no  means  of  ingress.  Every  window  and 
door  was  fastened  and  locked,  and  I  returned  baffled  to  the 
porch.  As  I  did  so,  I  heard  the  rapid  pit-pat  of  a  swiftly 
driven  horse's  feet.  They  stopped  at  the  gate,  and  a  few 
seconds  later  I  met  Van  Helsing  running  up  the  avenue. 
When  he  saw  me,  he  gasped  out : — 

''Then  it  was  you,  and  just  arrived.  How  is  she?  Are  we 
too  late  ?  Did  you  not  get  my  telegram  ?" 

I  answered  as  quickly  and  coherently  as  I  could  that  1 
had  only  got  his  telegram  early  in  the  morning,  and  had 
not  lost  a  minute  in  coming  here,  and  that  I  could  not  make 
any  one  in  the  house  hear  me.  He  paused  and  raised  his  hat 
as  he  said  solemnly  : — 



"Then  I  fear  we  are  too  late.  God's  will  be  done !"  With 
his  usual  recuperative  energy,  he  went  on :  **Come.  If  there 
be  no  way  open  to  get  in,  we  must  make  one.  Time  is  all 
in  all  to  us  now." 

We  went  round  to  the  back  of  the  house,  where  there 
was  a  kitchen  window.  The  Professor  took  a  small  surgical 
saw  from  his  case,  and  handing  it  to  me,  pointed  to  the 
iron  bars  which  guarded  the  window.  I  attacked  them  at 
once  and  had  very  soon  cut  through  three  of  them.  Then 
with  a  long,  thin  knife  we  pushed  back  the  fastening  of 
the  sashes  and  opened  the  window.  I  helped  the  Professor 
in,  and  followed  him.  There  was  no  one  in  the  kitchen  or 
in  the  servants'  rooms,  which  were  close  at  hand.  We  tried 
all  the  rooms  as  we  went  along,  and  in  the  dining-room, 
dimly  lit  by  rays  of  light  through  the  shutters,  found  four 
servant-women  lying  on  the  floor.  There  was  no  need  to 
think  them  dead,  for  their  stertorous  breathing  and  the 
acrid  smell  of  laudanum  in  the  room  left  no  doubt  as  to 
their  condition.  Van  Helsing  and  I  looked  at  each  other, 
and  as  we  moved  away  he  said :  "We  can  attend  to  them 
later."  Then  we  ascended  to  Lucy's  room.  For  an  instant 
or  two  we  paused  at  the  door  to  listen,  but  there  was  no 
sound  that  we  could  hear.  With  white  faces  and  trembling 
hands,  we  opened  the  door  gently,  and  entered  the  room. 

How  shall  I  describe  what  we  saw  ?  On  the  bed  lay  two 
women,  Lucy  and  her  mother.  The  latter  lay  farthest  in, 
and  she  was  covered  with  a  white  sheet,  the  edge  of  which 
had  been  blown  back  by  the  draught  through  the  broken 
window,  showing  the  drawn,  white  face,  with  a  look  of  ter- 
ror fixed  upon  it.  By  her  side  lay  Lucy,  with  face  white 
and  still  more  drawn.  The  flowers  which  had  been  round 
her  neck  we  found  upon  her  mother's  bosom,  and  her 
throat  was  bare,  showing  the  two  little  wounds  which  we 
had  noticed  before,  but  looking  horribly  white  and  man- 
gled. Without  a  word  the  Professor  bent  over  the  bed, 
his  head  almost  touching  poor  Lucy's  breast ;  then  he  gave 
a  quick  turn  of  his  head,  as  of  one  who  listens,  and  leap- 
ing to  his  feet,  he  cried  out  to  me : — 

*Tt  is  not  yet  too  late !  Quick !  quick !  Bring  the  brandy !" 

I  flew  downstairs  and  returned  with  it,  taking  care  to 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  i6i 

smell  and  taste  it,  lest  it,  too,  were  drugged  like  the  decan- 
tTof  sherry  which  I  found  on  the  table.  The  maids  were 
still  breathing,  but  more  restlessly,  and  I  fancied  that  the 
narcotic  was  wearing  oflf.  I  did  not  stay  to  make  sure,  but 
XnedTo  Van  Helsmg.  He  rubbed  the  brandy,  as  on  an- 
other occasion,  on  her  lips  and  gums  and  on  her  wrists  and 
the  palms  of  her  hands.  He  said  to  me :— 

-I  can  do  this,  all  that  can  be  at  the  present.  You  go 
wake  those  maids.  Flick  them  in  the  face  with  a  wet  towel, 
and  flick  them  hard.  Make  them  get  heat  and  fire  and  a 
warm  bath.  This  poor  soul  is  nearly  as  cold  as  that  beside 
her.  She  will  need  be  heated  before  we  can  do  anything 

""Twent  at  once,  and  found  little  difficulty  in  waking  three 
of  the  women.  The  fourth  was  only  a  young  girl,  and  the 
drug  had  evidently  affected  her  more  strongly,  so  I  lifted 
her  on  the  sofa  and  let  her  sleep.  The  others  were  dazed 
at  first  but  as  remembrance  came  back  to  them  they  cried 
and  sobbed  in  a  hysterical  manner.  I  was  stern  with  them, 
however  and  would  not  let  them  talk.  I  told  them  that  one 
life  was  bad  enough  to  lose,  and  that  if  they  delayed  they 
would  sacrifice  Miss  Lucy.  So,  sobbing  and  crying,  they 
went  about  their  way,  half  clad  as  they  were,  and  prepared 
fire  and  water.  Fortunately,  the  kitchen  and  boiler  hres 
were  still  alive,  and  there  was  no  lack  of  hot  water.  We  got 
a  bath  and  carried  Lucy  out  as  she  was  and  placed  her  in 
it    Whilst  we  were  busy  chafing  her  limbs  there  was  a 
knock  at  the  hall  door.  One  of  the  maids  ran  off,  hurried 
on  some  more  clothes,  and  opened  it.  Then  she  returned 
and  whispered  to  us  that  there  was  a  gentleman  who  had 
come  with  a  message  from  Mr.  Holmwood    I  bade  her 
simply  tell  him  that  he  must  wait,  for  we  could  see  no  one 
now  She  went  away  with  the  message,  and,  engrossed  with 
our  work,  I  clean  forgot  all  about  him. 

I  never  saw  in  all  my  experience  the  Professor  work  in 
such  deadly  earnest.  I  knew— as  he  knew— that  it  was  a 
stand-up  fight  with  death,  and  in  a  pause  told  hini  so.  He 
answered  me  in  a  way  that  I  did  not  understand,  but  with 
the  sternest  look  that  his  face  could  wear  :— 

*Tf  that  were  all,  I  would  stop  here  where  we  are  now. 


and  let  her  fade  away  into  peace,  for  I  see  no  light  in  Hfe 
over  her  horizon."  He  went  on  with  his  work  with,  if  pos- 
sible, renewed  and  more  frenzied  vigour. 

Presently  we  both  began  to  be  conscious  that  the  heat 
was  beginning  to  be  of  some  effect.  Lucy's  heart  beat  a 
trifle  more  audibly  to  the  stethoscope,  and  her  lungs  had  a 
perceptible  movement.  Van  Helsing's  face  almost  beamed, 
and  as  we  lifted  her  from  the  bath  and  rolled  her  in  a  hot 
sheet  to  dry  her  he  said  to  me : — 

''The  first  gain  is  ours!  Check  to  the  King!" 

We  took  Lucy  into  another  room,  which  had  by  now 
been  prepared,  and  laid  her  in  bed  and  forced  a  few  drops 
of  brandy  down  her  throat.  I  noticed  that  Van  Helsing 
tied  a  soft  silk  handkerchief  round  her  throat.  She  was 
still  unconscious,  and  was  quite  as  bad,  if  not  worse  than, 
we  had  ever  seen  her. 

Van  Helsing  called  in  one  of  the  women,  and  told  her  to 
stay  with  her  and  not  to  take  her  eyes  off  her  till  we  re- 
turned, and  then  beckoned  me  out  of  the  room. 

"We  must  consult  as  to  what  is  to  be  done,"  he  said  as 
we  descended  the  stairs.  In  the  hall  he  opened  the  dining- 
room  door,  and  we  passed  in,  he  closing  the  door  carefully 
behind  him.  The  shutters  had  been  opened,  but  the  blinds 
were  already  down,  with  that  obedience  to  the  etiquette  of 
death  which  the  British  woman  of  the  lower  classes  always 
rigidly  observes.  The  room  was,  therefore,  dimly  dark.  It 
was,  however,  light  enough  for  our  purposes.  Van  Hel- 
sing's sternness  was  somewhat  relieved  by  a  look  of  per- 
plexity. He  was  evidently  torturing  his  mind  about  some- 
thing, so  I  waited  for  an  instant,  and  he  spoke : — 

"What  are  we  to  do  now?  Where  are  we  to  turn  for 
help?  We  must  have  another  transfusion  of  blood,  and  that 
soon,  or  that  poor  girl's  life  won't  be  worth  an  hour's  pur- 
chase. You  are  exhausted  already ;  I  am  exhausted  too.  I 
fear  to  trust  those  women,  even  if  they  would  have  courage 
to  submit.  What  are  we  to  do  for  some  one  who  will  open 
his  veins  for  her?" 

"W^hat's  the  matter  with  me,  anyhow?" 

The  voice  came  from  the  sofa  across  the  room,  and  its 
tones  brought  relief  and  joy  to  my  heart,  for  they  were 

•DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  16^ 

thpse  of  Quincey  Morris.  Van  Helsing  started  angrily  at 
the  first  sound,  but  his  face  softened  and  a  glad  look  came 
into  his  eyes  as  I  cried  out :  ''Quincey  Morris !"  and  rushed 
towards  him  with  outstretched  hands. 

"What  brought  you  here?"  I  cried  as  our  hands  met. 

"I  guess  Art  is  the  cause." 

He  handed  me  a  telegram : — 

"Have  not  heard  from  Seward  for  three  days,  and  am 
terribly  anxious.  Cannot  leave.  Father  still  in  same  condi- 
tion. Send  me  word  how  Lucy  is.  Do  not  delay. — Holm- 

"I  think  I  came  just  in  the  nick  of  time.  You  know  you 
have  only  to  tell  me  what  to  do." 

Van  Helsing  strode  forward,  and  took  his  hand,  looking 
him  straight  in  the  eyes  as  he  said : — 

"A  brave  man's  blood  is  the  best  thing  on  this  earth 
when  a  woman  is  in  trouble.  You're  a  man  and  no  mis- 
take. Well,  the  devil  may  work  against  us  for  all  he's 
worth,  but  God  sends  us  men  when  we  want  them." 

Once  again  we  went  through  that  ghastly  operation.  I 
have  not  the  heart  to  go  through  with  the  details.  Lucy  had 
got  a  terrible  shock  and  it  told  on  her  more  than  before, 
for  though  plenty  of  blood  went  into  her  veins,  her  body 
did  not  respond  to  the  treatment  as  well  as  on  the  other 
occasions.  Her  struggle  back  into  life  was  something  fright- 
ful to  see  and  hear.  However,  the  action  of  both  heart  and 
lungs  improved,  and  Van  Helsing  made  a  subcutaneous  in- 
jection of  morphia,  as  before,  and  with  good  effect.  Her 
faint  became  a  profound  slumber.  The  Professor  watched 
whilst  I  went  downstairs  with  Quincey  Morris,  and  sent 
one  of  the  maids  to  pay  off  one  of  the  cabmen  who  were 
waiting.  I  left  Quincey  lying  down  after  having  a  glass  of 
wine,  and  told  the  cook  to  get  ready  a  good  breakfast. 
Then  a  thought  struck  me,  and  I  went  back  to  the  room 
where  Lucy  now  was.  When  I  came  softly  in,  I  found  Van 
Helsing  with  a  sheet  or  two  of  note-paper  in  his  hand.  He 
had  evidently  read  it,  and  was  thinking  it  over  as  he  sat 
with  his  hand  to  his  brow.  There  was  a  look  of  grim  satis- 
faction in  his  face,  as  of  one  who  has  had  a  doubt  solved. 


He  handed  me  the  paper  saying  only:  "It  dropped  from 
I/Ucy's  breast  when  we  carried  her  to  the  bath." 

When  I  had  read  it,  I  stood  looking  at  the  Professor, 
and  after  a  pause  asked  him :  "In  God's  name,  what  does  it 
all  mean  ?  Was  she,  or  is  she,  mad ;  or  what  sort  of  horrible 
danger  is  it?"  I  was  so  bewildered  that  I  did  not  know 
what  to  say  more.  Van  Helsing  put  out  his  hand  and  took 
the  paper,  saying : — 

"Do  not  trouble  about  it  now.  Forget  it  for  the  present. 
You  shall  know  and  understand  it  all  in  good  time ;  but  it 
will  be  later.  And  now  what  is  it  that  you  came  to  me  to 
say  ?"  This  brought  me  back  to  fact,  and  I  was  all  myself 

"I  came  to  speak  about  the  certificate  of  death.  If  we  do 
not  act  properly  and  wisely,  there  may  be  an  inquest,  and 
that  paper  would  have  to  be  produced.  I  am  in  hopes  that 
we  need  have  no  inquest,  for  if  we  had  it  would  surely  kill 
poor  Lucy,  if  nothing  else  did.  I  know,  and  you  know,  and 
the  other  doctor  who  attended  her  knows,  that  Mrs.  Wes- 
tenra  had  disease  of  the  heart,  and  we  can  certify  that  she 
died  of  it.  Let  us  fill  up  the  certificate  at  once,  and  I  shall 
take  it  myself  to  the  registrar  and  go  on  to  the  under- 

"Good,  oh  my  friend  John !  Well  thought  of !  Truly  Miss 
Lucy,  if  she  be  sad  in  the  foes  that  beset  her,  is  at  least 
happy  in  the  friends  that  love  her.  One,  two,  three,  all  open 
their  veins  for  her,  besides  one  old  man.  Ah  yes,  I  know, 
friend  John ;  I  am  not  blind !  I  love  you  all  the  more  for 
it !  Now  go." 

In  the  hall  I  met  Quincey  Morris,  with  a  telegram  for 
Arthur  telling  him  that  Mrs.  Westenra  was  dead;  that 
Lucy  also  had  been  ill,  but  was  now  going  on  better ;  and 
that  Van  Helsing  and  I  were  with  her.  I  told  him  where  I 
was  going,  and  he  hurried  me  out,  but  as  I  was  going 
said : — 

"When  you  come  back,  Jack,  may  I  have  two  words  with 
you  all  to  ourselves?"  I  nodded  in  reply  and  went  out.  I 
found  no  difficulty  about  the  registration,  and  arranged 
with  the  local  undertaker  to  come  up  in  the  evening  ro 
measure  for  the  coffin  and  to  make  arrangements. 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  i6s 

When  I  got  back  Quincey  was  waiting  for  me.  I  told  him 
I  would  see  him  as  soon  as  I  knew  about  Lucy,  and  went 
up  to  her  room.  She  was  still  sleeping,  and  the  Professor 
seemingly  had  not  moved  from  his  seat  at  her  side.  From 
his  putting  his  finger  to  his  lips,  I  gathered  that  he  ex- 
pected her  to  wake  before  long  and  was  afraid  of  fore- 
stalling nature.  So  I  went  down  to  Quincey  and  took  him 
into  the  breakfast-room,  where  the  blinds  were  not  drawn 
down,  and  which  was  a  little  more  cheerful,  or  rather  less 
cheerless,  than  the  other  rooms.  When  we  were  alone,  he 
said  to  me : — 

"Jack  Seward,  I  don't  want  to  shove  myself  m  anywhere 
where  I've  no  right  to  be;  but  this  is  no  ordinary  case. 
You  know  I  loved  that  girl  and  wanted  to  marry  her ;  but, 
although  that's  all  past  and  gone,  I  can't  help  feeling  anx- 
ious about  her  all  the  same.  What  is  it  that's  wrong  with 
her  ?  The  Dutchman — and  a  fine  old  fellow  he  is ;  I  can  see 
that — said,  that  time  you  two  came  into  the  room,  that  you 
must  have  another  transfusion  of  blood,  and  that  both  you 
and  he  were  exhausted.  Now  I  know  well  that  you  medical 
men  speak  in  camera,  and  that  a  man  must  not  expect  to 
know  what  they  consult  about  in  private.  But  this  is  no 
common  matter,  and,  whatever  it  is,  I  have  done  my  part 
Is  not  that  so  ?" 

^'That's  so,"  I  said,  and  he  went  on : — 

"I  take  it  that  both  you  and  Van  Helsing  had  done  al- 
ready what  I  did  to-day.  Is  not  that  so  ?" 

"That's  so." 

"And  I  guess  Art  was  in  it  too.  When  I  saw  him  fout 
days  ago  down  at  his  own  place  he  looked  queer.  I  have  no( 
seen  anything  pulled  down  so  quick  since  I  was  on  thei 
Pampas  and  had  a  mare  that  I  was  fond  of  go  to  grass  all 
in  a  night.  One  of  those  big  bats  that  they  call  vampires 
had  got  at  her  in  the  night,  and  what  with  his  gorge  and 
the  vein  left  open,  there  wasn't  enough  blood  in  her  to  let 
her  stand  up,  and  I  had  to  put  a  bullet  through  her  as  she 
lay.  Jack,  if  you  may  tell  me  without  betraying  confidence, 
Arthur  was  the  first,  is  not  that  so  ?"  As  he  spoke  the  poor 
fellow  looked  terribly  anxious.  He  was  in  a  torture  of  sus- 
pense regarding  the  woman  he  loved,  and  his  utter  ignor" 

i66  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

ance  of  the  terrible  mystery  which  seemed  to  surround  her 
intensified  his  pain.  His  very  heart  was  bleeding,  and  it 
took  all  the  manhood  of  him — and  there  was  a  royal  lot 
of  it,  too — to  keep  him  from  breaking  down.  I  paused  be- 
fore answering,  for  I  felt  that  I  must  not  betray  anything 
which  the  Professor  wished  kept  secret ;  but  already  he 
knew  so  much,  and  guessed  so  much,  that  there  could  be  no 
reason  for  not  answering,  so  I  answered  in  the  same 
phrase:  "That's  so." 

"And  how  long  has  this  been  going  on?" 

"About  ten  days." 

"Ten  days !  Then  I  guess,  Jack  Seward,  that  that  poor 
pretty  creature  that  we  all  love  has  had  put  into  her  veins 
within  that  time  the  blood  of  four  strong  men.  Man  alive. 
her  whole  body  wouldn't  hold  it."  Then,  coming  close  to 
me,  he  spoke  in  a  fierce  half-whisper :  "What  took  it  out?" 

I  shook  my  head.  "That,"  I  said,  "is  the  crux.  Van  Hel- 
sing  is  simply  frantic  about  it,  and  I  am  at  my  wits'  end.  I 
can't  even  hazard  a  guess.  There  has  been  a  series  of  little 
circumstances  which  have  thrown  out  all  our  calculations 
as  to  Lucy  being  properly  watched.  But  these  shall  not  oc- 
cur again.  Here  we  stay  until  all  be  well — or  ill."  Quincey 
held  out  his  hand.  "Count  me  in,"  he  said.  "You  and  the 
Dutchman  will  tell  me  what  to  do,  and  I'll  do  it." 

When  she  woke  late  in  the  afternoon,  Lucy's  first  move- 
ment was  to  feel  in  her  breast,  and,  to  my  surprise,  pro- 
duced the  paper  which  Van  Helsing  had  given  me  to  read. 
The  careful  Professor  had  replaced  it  where  it  had  come 
from,  lest  on  waking  she  should  be  alarmed.  Her  eye  then 
lit  on  Van  Helsing  and  on  me  too,  and  gladdened.  Then 
she  looked  around  the  room,  and  seeing  where  she  was. 
shuddered ;  she  gave  a  loud  cry,  and  put  her  poor  thin 
hands  before  her  pale  face.  We  both  understood  what  that 
meant — that  she  had  realised  to  the  full  her  mother's  death  : 
so  we  tried  what  we  could  to  comfort  her.  Doubtless  sym- 
pathy eased  her  somewhat,  but  she  was  very  low  in  thought 
and  spirit,  and  wept  silently  and  weakly  for  a  long  time. 
We  told  her  that  either  or  both  of  us  would  now  remain 
with  her  all  the  time,  and  that  seemed  to  comfort  her. 
Towards  dusk  she  fell  into  a  doze.  Here  a  very  odd  thing 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  167 

occurred.  Whilst  still  asleep  she  took  the  paper  from  her 
breast  and  tore  it  in  two.  Van  Helsing  stepped  over  and 
took  the  pieces  from  her.  All  the  same,  however,  she  went 
on  with  the  action  of  tearing,  as  though  the  material  were 
still  in  her  hands ;  finally  she  lifted  her  hands  and  opened 
them  as  though  scattering  the  fragments.  Van  Helsing 
seemed  surprised,  and  his  brows  gathered  as  if  in  thought, 
but  he  said  nothing. 

ig  September. — All  last  night  she  slept  fitfully,  being  al- 
ways afraid  to  sleep,  and  something  weaker  when  she  woke 
from  it.  The  Professor  and  I  took  it  in  turns  to  watch,  and 
we  never  left  her  for  a  moment  unattended.  Quincey  Mor- 
ris said  nothing  about  his  intention,  but  I  knew  that  all 
night  long  he  patrolled  round  and  round  the  house. 

When  the  day  came,  its  searching  light  showed  the  rav- 
ages in  poor  Lucy's  strength.  She  was  hardly  able  to  turn 
her  head,  and  the  little  nourishment  which  she  could  take 
seemed  to  do  her  no  good.  At  times  she  slept,  and  both 
Van  Helsing  and  I  noticed  the  difference  in  her,  between 
sleeping  and  waking.  Whilst  asleep  she  looked  stronger, 
although  more  haggard,  and  her  breathing  was  softer ;  her 
open  mouth  showed  the  pale  gums  drawn  back  from  the 
teeth,  which  thus  looked  positively  longer  and  sharper  than 
usual ;  when  she  woke  the  softness  of  her  eyes  evidently 
changed  the  expression,  for  she  looked  her  own  self,  al- 
though a  dying  one.  In  the  afternoon  she  asked  for  Arthur, 
and  we  telegraphed  for  him.  Quincey  went  oflF  to  meet  him 
at  the  station. 

When  he  arrived  it  was  nearly  six  o'clock,  and  the  sun 
was  setting  full  and  warm,  and  the  red  light  streamed  in 
through  the  window  and  gave  more  colour  to  the  pale 
cheeks.  When  he  saw  her,  Arthur  was  simply  choking  with 
emotion,  and  none  of  us  could  speak.  In  the  hours  that  had 
passed,  the  fits  of  sleep,  or  the  comatose  condition  that 
passed  for  it,  had  grown  more  frequent,  so  that  the  pauses 
when  conversation  was  possible  were  shortened.  Arthur's 
presence,  however,  seemed  to  act  as  a  stimulant ;  she  rallied 
a  little,  and  spoke  to  him  more  brightly  than  she  had  done 
since  we  arrived.  He  too  pulled  himseK  together,  and  spoke 

i68  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

as  cheerily  as  he  could,  so  that  the  best  was  made  of  every- 

It  was  now  nearly  one  o'clock,  and  he  and  Van  Helsing 
are  sitting  with  her.  I  am  to  relieve  them  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  and  I  am  entering  this  on  Lucy's  phonograph.  Until 
six  o'clock  they  are  to  try  to  rest.  I  fear  that  to-morrow 
will  end  our  watching,  for  the  shock  has  been  too  great ; 
the  poor  child  cannot  rally.  God  help  us  all. 

Letter,  Mina  Marker  to  Lucy  Westenra. 
(Unopened  by  her.) 

"ly  September. 
"My  dearest  Lucy, — 

**It  seems  an  age  since  I  heard  from  you,  or  indeed  since 
I  wrote.  You  will  pardon  me,  I  know,  for  all  my  faults 
when  you  have  read  all  my  budget  of  news.  Well,  I  got  my 
husband  back  all  right;  when  we  arrived  at  Exeter  there 
was  a  carriage  waiting  for  us,  and  in  it,  though  he  had  an 
attack  of  gout,  Mr.  Hawkins.  He  took  us  to  his  house, 
where  there  were  rooms  for  us  all  nice  and  comfortable, 
and  we  dined  together.  After  dinner  Mr.  Hawkins  said : — 

**  *My  dears,  I  want  to  drink  your  health  and  prosperity ; 
and  may  every  blessing  attend  you  both.  I  know  you  both 
from  children,  and  have,  with  love  and  pride,  seen  you 
grow  up.  Now  I  want  you  to  make  your  home  here  with 
me.  I  have  left  to  me  neither  chick  nor  child ;  all  are  gone, 
and  in  my  will  I  have  left  you  everything.'  I  cried,  Lucy 
dear,  as  Jonathan  and  the  old  man  clasped  hands.  Our  eve- 
ning was  a  very,  very  happy  one. 

"So  here  we  are,  installed  in  this  beautiful  old  house, 
and  from  both  my  bedroom  and  the  drawing-room  I  can 
see  the  great  elms  of  the  cathedral  close,  with  their  great 
black  stems  standing  out  against  the  old  yellow  stone  of 
the  cathedral  and  I  can  hear  the  rooks  overhead  cawing 
and  cawing  and  chattering  and  gossiping  all  day,  after  the 
manner  of  rooks — and  humans.  I  am  busy,  I  need  not  tell 
you,  arranging  things  and  housekeeping.  Jonathan  and 
Mr.  Hawkins  are  busy  all  day ;  for,  now  that  Jonathan  is  a 

DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  169 

partner,   Mr.   Hawkins  wants  to  tell  him  all  about  the 

"How  is  your  dear  mother  getting  on  ?  I  wish  I  could  run 
up  to  town  for  a  day  or  two  to  see  you,  dear,  but  I  dare 
not  go  yet,  with  so  much  on  my  shoulders ;  and  Jonathan 
wants  looking  after  still.  He  is  beginning  to  put  some  flesh 
on  his  bones  again,  but  he  was  terribly  weakened  by  the 
long  illness ;  even  now  he  sometimes  starts  out  of  his  sleep 
in  a  sudden  way  and  awakes  all  trembling  until  I  can  coax 
him  back  to  his  usual  placidity.  However,  thank  God,  these 
occasions  grow  less  frequent  as  the  days  go  on,  and  they- 
will  in  time  pass  away  altogether,  I  trust.  And  now  I  have 
told  you  my  news,  let  me  ask  yours.  When  are  you  to  be 
married,  and  where,  and  who  is  to  perform  the  ceremony, 
and  what  are  you  to  wear,  and  is  it  to  be  a  public  or  a  pri- 
vate wedding  ?  Tell  me  all  about  it,  dear ;  tell  me  all  about 
everything,  for  there  is  nothing  which  interests  you  which 
will  not  be  dear  to  me.  Jonathan  asks  me  to  send  his  're- 
spectful duty,'  but  I  do  not  think  that  is  good  enough  from 
the  junior  partner  of  the  important  firm  Hawkins  &  Har- 
ker;  and  so,  as  you  love  me,  and  he  loves  me,  and  I  love 
you  with  all  the  moods  and  tenses  of  the  verb,  I  send  you 
simply  his  'love'  instead.  Good-bye,  my  dearest  Lucy,  and 
all  blessings  on  you. 


"MiNA  Harker." 

Report  from  Patrick  Hennessey,  M.  D.,  M.  R.  C.  S.  L.  K. 
Q.  C.  P.  I.,  etc,  etc.,  to  John  Seward,  M.  D. 

"20  September. 
"My  dear  Sir,— 

"In  accordance  with  your  wishes,  I  enclose  report  of  the 
conditions  of  everything  left  in  my  charge.  .  .  .  With  re- 
gard to  patient,  Renfield,  there  is  more  to  say.  He  has  had 
another  outbreak,  which  might  have  had  a  dreadful  end- 
ing, but  which,  as  it  fortunately  happened,  was  unattended 
with  any  unhappy  results.  This  afternoon  a  carrier's  cart 
with  two  men  made  a  call  at  the  empty  house  whose 
grounds  abut  on  ours — the  house  to  which,  you  will  re- 

^7o  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

member,  the  patient  twice  ran  away.  The  men  stopped  at 
our  gate  to  ask  the  porter  their  way,  as  they  were  stran- 
gers. I  was  myself  looking  out  of  the  study  window,  hav- 
ing a  smoke  after  dinner,  and  saw  one  of  them  come  up  to 
the  house.  As  he  passed  the  window  of  Renfield's  room, 
the  patient  began  to  rate  him  from  within,  and  called  him 
all  the  foul  names  he  could  lay  his  tongue  to.  The  man, 
who  seemed  a  decent  fellow  enough,  contented  himself  by 
telling  him  to  ''shut  up  for  a  foul-mouthed  beggar,"  where- 
on our  man  accused  him  of  robbing  him  and  wanting 
.to  murder  him  and  said  that  he  would  hinder  him  if  he 
were  to  swing  for  it.  I  opened  the  window  and  signed  to 
the  man  not  to  notice,  so  he  contented  himself  after  look- 
ing the  place  over  and  making  up  his  mind  as  to  what  kind 
of  a  place  he  had  got  to  by  saying:  *Lor'  bless  yer,  sir,  I 
wouldn't  mind  what  was  said  to  me  in  a  bloomin'  mad- 
house. I  pity  ye  and  the  guv'nor  for  havin'  to  live  in  the 
house  with  a  wild  beast  like  that.'  Then  he  asked  his  way 
civilly  enough,  and  I  told  him  where  the  gate  of  the  empty 
house  was ;  he  went  away,  followed  by  threats  and  curses 
and  revilings  from  our  man.  I  went  down  to  see  if  I  could 
make  out  any  cause  for  his  anger,  since  he  is  usually  such 
a  well-behaved  man,  and  except  his  violent  fits  nothing  of 
the  kind  had  ever  occurred.  I  found  him,  to  my  astonish- 
ment, quite  composed  and  most  genial  in  his  manner.  I 
tried  to  get  him  to  talk  of  the  incident,  but  he  blandly 
asked  me  questions  as  to  what  I  meant,  and  led  me  to  be- 
lieve that  he  was  completely  oblivious  of  the  affair.  It  was, 
I  am  sorry  to  say,  however,  only  another  instance  of  his 
cunning,  for  within  half  an  hour  I  heard  of  him  again. 
This  time  he  had  broken  out  through  the  window  of  his 
room,  and  was  running  down  the  avenue.  I  called  to  the 
attendants  to  follow  me,  and  ran  after  him,  for  I  feared  he 
was  intent  on  some  mischief.  My  fear  was  justified  when  I 
saw  the  same  cart  which  had  passed  before  coming  down 
the  road,  having  on  it  some  great  wooden  boxes.  The  men 
were  wiping  their  foreheads,  and  were  flushed  in  the  face, 
as  if  with  violent  exercise.  Before  I  could  get  up  to  him 
the  patient  rushed  at  them,  and  pulling  one  of  them  off 
the  cart,  began  to  knock  his  head  against  the  ground.  If  I 

DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  i7\ 

had  not  seized  him  just  at  the  moment  I  believe  he  would 
have  killed  the  man  there  and  then.  The  other  fellow 
jumped  down  and  struck  him  over  the  head  with  the  butt- 
end  of  his  heavy  whip.  It  was  a  terrible  blow ;  but  he  did 
not  seem  to  mind  it.  but  seized  him  also,  and  struggled  with 
the  three  of  us,  pulling  us  to  and  fro  as  if  we  were  kit- 
tens. You  know  I  am  no  light  weight,  and  the  others  were 
both  burly  men.  At  first  he  was  silent  in  his  fighting ;  but 
as  we  began  to  master  him,  and  the  attendants  were  put- 
ting a  strait-waistcoat  on  him,  he  began  to  shout :  'I'll  frus- 
trate them !  They  shan't  rob  me !  they  shan't  murder  me  by 
inches  !  I'll  fight  for  my  Lord  and  Master  !'  and  all  sorts  of 
similar  incoherent  ravings.  It  was  with  very  considerable 
difficulty  that  they  got  him  back  to  the  house  and  put  him 
in  the  padded  room.  One  of  the  attendants.  Hardy,  had  a 
finger  broken.  However,  I  set  it  all  right ;  and  he  is  going 
on  well. 

"The  two  carriers  were  at  first  loud  in  their  threats  of 
actions  for  damages,  and  promised  to  rain  all  the  penalties 
of  the  law  on  us.  Their  threats  were,  however,  mingled 
with  some  sort  of  indirect  apology  for  the  defeat  of  the 
two  of  them  by  a  feeble  madman.  They  said  that  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  way  their  strength  had  been  spent  in  car- 
rying and  raising  the  heavy  boxes  to  the  cart  they  would 
have  made  short  work  of  him.  They  gave  as  another  rea-. 
son  for  their  defeat  the  extraordinary  state  of  drouth  to 
which  they  had  been  reduced  by  the  dusty  nature  of  their 
occupation  and  the  reprehensible  distance  from  the  scene 
of  their  labours  of  any  place  of  public  entertainment.  I 
quite  understood  their  drift,  and  after  a  stiff  glass  of  grog, 
or  rather  more  of  the  same,  and  with  each  a  sovereign  in 
hand,  they  made  light  of  the  attack,  and  swore  that  they 
would  encounter  a  worse  madman  any  day  for  the  pleas- 
ure of  meeting  so  'bloomin'  good  a  bloke'  as  your  cor- 
respondent. I  took  their  names  and  addresses,  in  case  they 
might  be  needed.  They  are  as  follows : — Jack  SmoUet,  of 
Dudding's  Rents,  King  George's  Road,  Great  Walworth, 
and  Thomas  Snelling,  Peter  Farley's  Row,  Guide  Court, 
Bethnal  Green.  They  are  both  in  the  employment  of  Harris 

f  72  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

&  Sons,  Moving  and  Shipment  Company,  Orange  Mas- 
ter's Yard,  Soho. 

"I  shall  report  to  you  any  matter  of  interest  occurring 
here,  and  shall  wire  you  at  once  if  there  is  anything  of  im- 

"Believe  me,  dear  Sir, 
"Yours  faithfully, 
"Patrick  Hennessey." 

Letter,  Mina  Marker  to  Lucy  Westenra. 
(Unopened  by  her.) 

"i8  September, 
"My  dearest  Lucy, — 

*  "Such  a  sad  blow  has  befallen  us.  Mr.  Hawkins  has  died 
very  suddenly.  Some  may  not  think  it  so  sad  for  us,  but  we 
had  both  come  to  so  love  him  that  it  really  seems  as  though 
we  had  lost  a  father.  I  never  knew  either  father  or  mother, 
so  that  the  dear  old  man's  death  is  a  real  blow  to  me.  Jona- 
than is  greatly  distressed.  It  is  not  only  that  he  feels  sor- 
row, deep  sorrow,  for  the  dear,  good  man  who  has  be- 
friended him  all  his  life,  and  now  at  the  end  has  treated 
him  like  his  own  son  and  left  him  a  fortune  which  to  peo- 
ple of  our  modest  bringing  up  is  wealth  beyond  the  dream 
of  avarice,  but  Jonathan  feels  it  on  another  account.  He 
says  the  amount  of  responsibility  which  it  puts  upon  him 
makes  him  nervous.  He  begins  to  doubt  himself.  I  try  to 
cheer  him  up,  and  my  belief  in  him  helps  him  to  have  a 
belief  in  himself.  But  it  is  here  that  the  grave  shock  that  he 
experienced  tells  upon  him  the  most.  Oh,  it  is  too  hard 
that  a  sweet,  simple,  noble,  strong  nature  such  as  his — 
a  nature  which  enabled  him  by  our  dear,  good  friend's  aid 
to  rise  from  clerk  to  master  in  a  few  years — should  be  so 
injured  that  the  very  essence  of  its  strength  is  gone.  For- 
give me,  dear,  if  I  worry  you  with  my  troubles  in  the  midst 
of  your  own  happiness ;  but,  Lucy  dear,  I  must  tell  some 
one,  for  the  strain  of  keeping  up  a  brave  and  cheerful  ap- 

riarance  to  Jonathan  tries  me,  and  I  have  no  one  here  that 
can  confide  in.  I  dread  coming  up  to  London,  as  we  must 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  173 

do  the  day  after  to-morrow;  for  poor  Mr.  Hawkins  left 
in  his  will  that  he  was  to  be  buried  in  the  grave  with  his 
father.  As  there  are  no  relations  at  all,  Jonathan  will  have 
to  be  chief  mourner.  I  shall  try  to  run  over  to  see  you, 
dearest,  if  only  for  a  few  minutes.  Forgive  me  for  troub- 
ling you.  With  all  blessings, 

"Your  loving 
"MiNA  Marker." 

Dr,  Seward's  Diary. 

20  September. — Only  resolution  and  habit  can  let  me 
make  an  entry  to-night.  I  am  too  miserable,  too  low- 
spirited,  too  sick  of  the  world  and  all  in  it,  including  life 
itself,  that  I  would  not  care  if  I  heard  this  moment  the 
flaping  of  the  wings  of  the  angel  of  death.  And  he  has 
been  flapping  those  grim  wings  to  some  purpose  of  late — 
Lucy's  mother  and  Arthur's  father,  and  now.  .  .  .  Let  me 
get  on  with  my  work. 

I  duly  relieved  Van  Helsing  in  his  watch  over  Lucy. 
We  wanted  Arthur  to  go  to  rest  also,  but  he  refused  at 
first.  It  was  only  when  I  told  him  that  we  should  want  him 
to  help  us  during  the  day,  and  that  we  must  not  all  break 
down  for  want  of  rest,  lest  Lucy  should  suffer,  that  he 
agreed  to  go.  Van  Helsing  was  very  kind  to  him.  "Come, 
my  child,"  he  said ;  "come  with  me.  You  are  sick  and  weak, 
and  have  had  much  sorrow  and  much  mental  pain,  as  well 
as  that  tax  on  your  strength  that  we  know  of.  You  must 
not  be  alone;  for  to  be  alone  is  to  be  full  of  fears  and 
alarms.  Come  to  the  drawing-room,  where  there  is.  a  big 
fire,  and  there  are  two  sofas.  You  shall  lie  on  one,  and  I  on 
the  other,  and  our  sympathy  will  be  comfort  to.  each  other, 
even  though  we  do  not  speak,  and  even  if  we  sleep." 
Arthur  went  off  with  him,  casting  back  a  longing  look  on 
Lucy's  face,  which  lay  in  her  pillow,  almost  whiter  than 
the  lawn.  She  lay  quite  still,  and  I  looked  round  the  room 
to  see  that  all  was  as  it  should  be.  I  could  see  that  the  Pro- 
fessor had  carried  out  in  this  room,  as  in  the  other,  his  pur- 
pose of  using  the  garlic ;  the  whole  of  the  window-sashes 
reeked  with  it,  and  round  Lucy's  neck,  over  the  silk  hand- 

•  74  DRACULA 

kerchief  which  Van  Helsing  made  her  keep  on,  was  a 
rough  chaplet  of  the  same  odorous  flowers.  Lucy  was 
breathing  somewhat  stertorously,  and  her  face  was  at  its 
worst,  for  the  open  mouth  showed  the  pale  gums.  Her 
teeth,  in  the  dim,  uncertain  Hght,  seemed  longer  and 
sharper  than  they  had  been  in  the  morning.  In  particular, 
by  some  trick  of  the  light,  the  canine  teeth  looked  longer 
and  sharper  than  the  rest.  I  sat  down  by  her,  and  presentl}- 
she  moved  uneasily.  At  the  same  moment  there  came  a  sort 
of  dull  flapping  or  buflfeting  at  the  window.  I  went  over  to 
it  softly,  and  peeped  out  by  the  corner  of  the  blind.  There 
was  a  full  moonlight,  and  I  could  see  that  the  noise  was 
made  by  a  great  bat,  which  wheeled  round — doubtless  at- 
tracted by  the  light,  although  so  dim — and  every  now  and 
again  struck  the  window  with  its  wings.  When  I  came 
back  to  my  seat,  I  found  that  Lucy  had  moved  slightly  and 
had  torn  away  the  garlic  flowers  from  her  throat.  I  re- 
placed them  as  well  as  I  could,  and  sat  watching  her. 

Presently  she  woke,  and  I  gave  her  food,  as  Van  Hel- 
sing  had  prescribed.  She  took  but  a  little,  and  that  lan- 
guidly. There  did  not  seem  to  be  with  her  now  the 
unconscious  struggle  for  life  and  strength  that  had  hitherto 
so  marked  her  illness.  It  struck  me  as  curious  that  the  mo- 
ment she  became  conscious  she  pressed  the  garlic  flowers 
close  to  her.  It  was  certainly  odd  that  whenever  she  got 
into  that  lethargic  state,  with  the  stertorous  breathing,  she 
put  the  flowers  from  her ;  but  that  when  she  waked  she 
clutched  them  close.  There  was  no  possibility  of  making 
any  mistake  about  this,  for  in  the  long  hours  that  followed, 
she  had  many  spells  of  sleeping  and  waking  and  repeated 
both  actions  many  times.  * 

At  six  o'clock  Van  Helsing  came  to  relieve  me.  Arthur 
had. then  fallen  into  a  doze,  and  he  mercifully  let  him  sleep 
on.  When  he  saw  Lucy's  face  I  could  hear  the  sissing  in- 
draw  of  his  breath,  and  he  said  to  me  in  a  sharp  whisper : 
'T)raw  up  the  blind;  I  want  light!"  Then  he  bent  down, 
and,  with  his  face  almost  touching  Lucy's,  examined  her 
carefully.  He  removed  the  flowers  and  lifted  the  silk  hand- 
kerchief from  her  throat.  As  he  did  so  he  started  back,  and 
I  could  hear  his  ejaculation,  **Mein  Gott!"  as  it  was  smoth- 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  175 

ered  in  his  throat.  I  bent  over  and  looked,  too,  and  as  I 
noticed  some  queer  chill  came  over  me. 

The  wounds  on  the  throat  had  absolutely  disappeared. 

For'  fully  five  minutes  Van  Helsing  stood  looking  at 
her,  with  his  face  at  its  sternest.  Then  he  turned  to  me 
and  said  calmly  : — 

''She  is  dying.  It  will  not  be  long  now.  It  will  be  much 
difference,  mark  me,  whether  she  dies  conscious  or  in 
her  sleep.  Wake  that  poor  boy,  and  let  him  come  and  see 
the  last ;  he  trusts  us,  and  we  have  promised  him." 

I  went  to  the  dining-room  and  waked  him.  He  was  dazed 
for  a  moment,  but  when  he  saw  the  sunlight  streaming  in 
through  the  edges  of  the  shutters  he  thought  he  was  late,, 
and  expressed  his  fear.  I  assured  him  that  Lucy  was  still 
asleep,  but  told  him  as  gently  as  I  could  that  both  Van 
Helsing  and  I  feared  that  the  end  was  near.  He  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands,  and  slid  down  on  his  knees  by  the 
sofa,  where  he  remained,  perhaps  a  minute,  with  his  head 
buried,  praying,  whilst  his  shoulders  shook  with  grief.  I 
took  him  by  the  hand  and  raised  him  up.  "Come,"  I  said, 
''my  dear  old  fellow,  summon  all  your  fortitude:  it  will  be 
best  and  easiest  for  her." 

When  we  came  into  Lucy's  room  I  could  see  that  Van 
Helsing  had,  with  his  usual  forethought,  been  putting  mat- 
ters straight  and  making  everything  look  as  pleasing  as 
possible.  He  had  even  brushed  Lucy's  hair,  so  that  it  lay  on 
the  pillow  in  its  usual  sunny  ripples.  When  we  came  into 
the  room  she  opened  her  eyes,  and  seeing  him,  whispered 
softly : — 

"Arthur !  Oh,  my  love,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come  !'* 
He  was  stooping  to  kiss  her,  when  Van  Helsing  motioned 
him  back.  "No,"  he  whispered,  "not  yet!  Hold  her  hand; 
it  will  comfort  her  more." 

So  Arthur  took  her  hand  and  knelt  beside  her,  and  she 
looked  her  best,  with  all  the  soft  lines  matching  the  angelic 
beauty  of  her  ejes.  Then  gradually  her  eyes  closed,  and 
she  sank  to  sleep.  For  a  little  bit  her  breasts  heaved 
softly,  and  her  breath  came  and  went  like  a  tired  child's. 

And  then  insensibly  there  came  the  strange  change, 
v.-liicli  I  had  noticed  in  the  night.  Her  breathing  grew  ster- 

176  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

torous,  the  mouth  opened,  and  the  pale  gums,  drawn  back, 
made  the  teeth  look  longer  and  sharper  than  ever.  In  a 
sort  of  sleep-waking,  vague,  unconscious  way  she  opened 
her  eyes,  which  were  now  dull  and  hard  at  once,  and  said 
in  a  soft,  voluptuous  voice,  such  as  I  had  never  heard 
from  her  lips : — 

"Arthur !  Oh,  my  love,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come  t 
Kiss  me  !"•  Arthur  bent  eagerly  over  to  kiss  her ;  but  at  that 
instant  Van  Helsing,  who,  like  me,  had  been  startled  by 
her  voice,  swooped  upon  him,  and  catching  him  by  the 
neck  with  a  fury  of  strength  which  I  never  thought  he 
could  have  possessed,  and  actually  hurled  him  almost 
across  the  room. 

"Not  for  your  Hf e !"  he  said ;  "not  for  your  living  soul 
and  hers !"  And  he  stood  between  them  like  a  lion  at  bay. 

Arthur  was  so  taken  aback  that  he  did  not  for  a  moment 
know  what  to  do  or  say;  and  before  any  impulse  of  vio- 
lence could  seize  him  he  realized  the  place  and  the  occa- 
sion, and  stood  silent,  waiting. 

I  kept  my  eyes  fixed  on  Lucy,  as  did  Van  Helsing,  and 
we  saw  a  spasm  as  of  rage  flit  like  a  shadow  over  her  face ; 
the  sharp  teeth  champed  together.  Then  her  eyes  closed, 
and  she  breathed  heavily. 

Very  shortly  after  she  opened  her  eyes  in  all  their 
softness,  and  putting  out  her  poor,  pale,  thin  hand,  took 
Van  Helsing's  great  brown  one;  drawing  it  to  her,  she 
kissed  it.  "My  true  friend,"  she  said,  in  a  faint  voice,  but 
with  untenable  pathos,  "My  true  friend,  and  his!  Oh, 
guard  him,  and  give  me  peace !" 

"I  swear  it!"  he  said  solemnly,  kneeling  beside  her  and 
holding  up  his  hand,  as  one  who  registers  an  oath.  Then  he 
turned  to  Arthur,  and  said  to  him :  "Come,  my  child,  take 
her  hand  in  yours,  and  kiss  her  on  the  forehead,  and  only 

Their  eyes  met  instead  of  their  lips ;  and  so  they  parted. 

Lucy's  eyes  closed ;  and  Van  Helsing,  who  had  been 
watching  closely,  took  Arthur's  arm,  and  drew  him  away. 

And  then  Lucy's  breathing  became  stertorous  again,  and 
all  at  once  it  ceased. 

"It  is  all  over,"  said  Van  Helsing.  "She  is  dead !" 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  177 

I  took  Arthur  by  the  arm,  and  led  him  away  tc  the 
drawing-room,  where  he  sat  down,  and  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands,  sobbing  in  a  way  that  nearly  broke  me 
down  to  see. 

I  went  back  to  the  room,  and  found  Van  Helsing  look- 
ing at  poor  Lucy,  and  his  face  was  sterner  than  ever.  Some 
change  had  come  over  her  body.  Death  had  given  back 
part  of  her  beauty,  for  her  brow  and  cheeks  had  recovered 
some  of  their  flowing  lines;  even  the  lips  had  lost  their 
deadly  pallor.  It  was  as  if  the  blood,  no  longer  needed 
for  the  working  of  the  heart,  had  gone  to  make  the  harsh- 
ness of  death  as  little  rude  as  might  be. 

"We  thought  her  dying    *,rhilst  she   slept. 
And  sleeping  when  she  died," 

I  stood  beside  Van  Helsing,  and  said : — 

"Ah,  well,  poor  girl,  there  is  peace  for  her  at  last,  it 

is  the  end !" 

He  turned  to  me,  and  said  with  grave  solemnity : — 

"Not  so ;  alas !  not  so.  It  is  only  the  beginning!" 

When  I  asked  him  what  he  meant,  he  only  shook  his 

head  and  answered : — 

"We  can  do  nothing  as  yet.  Wait  and  see." 

DR.   Seward's  diary — continued. 

The  funeral  was  arranged  for  the  next  succeeding  day, 
so  that  Lucy  and  her  mother  might  be  buried  together.  I 
attended  to  all  the  ghastly  formalities,  and  the  urbane  un- 
dertaker proved  that  his  staff  were  afflicted — or  blessed — 
with  something  of  his  own  obsequious  suavity.  Even  the 
woman  who  performed  the  last  offices  for  the  dead  re- 
marked to  me,  in  a  confidential,  brother-professional  way, 
when  she  had  come  out  from  the  death-chamber: — 

"She  makes  a  very  beautiful  corpse,  sir.  It's  quite  a 
privilege  to  attend  on  her.  It's  not  too  much  to  say  that  she 
will  do  credit  to  our  establishment!" 

I  noticed  that  Van  Helsing  never  kept  far  away.  This 
was  possible  from  the  disordered  state  of  things  in  the 
household.  There  were  no  relatives  at  hand ;  and  as  Arthur 
had  to  be  back  the  next  day  to  attend  at  his  father's  fun- 
eral, we  were  unable  to  notify  any  one  who  should  have 
been  bidden.  Under  the  circumstances,  Van  Helsing  and  I 
took  it  upon  ourselves  to  examine  papers,  etc.  He  insisted 
upon  looking  over  Lucy's  papers  himself.  I  asKed  him  why, 
for  I  feared  that  he,  being  a  foreigner,  might  not  be  quite 
aware  of  English  legal  requirements,  and  so  might  in 
ignorance  make  some  unnecessary  trouble.  He  answered 
me: — 

*T  know ;  I  know.  You  forget  that  I  am  a  lawyer  as  well 
as  a  doctor.  But  this  is  not  altogether  for  the  law.  You 
knew  that,  when  you  avoided  the  coroner.  I  have  more 
than  him  to  avoid.  There  may  be  papers  more — ^such  as 

As  he  spoke  he  took  from  his  pocket-book  the  memo- 
randum which  had  been  in  Lucy's  breast,  and  which  she 
had  torn  in  her  sleep. 


DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  i7g 

"When  you  find  anything  of  the  solicitor  who  is  for  the 
late  Mrs.  Westenra,  seal  all  her  papers,  and  write  him  to- 
night. For  me,  I  watch  here  in  the  room  and  in  Miss 
Lucy's  old  room  all  night,  and  I  myself  search  for  what 
may  be.  It  is  not  well  that  her  very  thoughts  go  into  the 
hands  of  strangers." 

I  went  on  with  my  part  of  the  work,  and  in  another 
half  hour  had  found  the  name  and  address  of  Mrs.  West- 
enra's  solicitor  and  had  written  to  him.  All  the  poor  lady's 
papers  were  in  order ;  expKcit  directions  regarding  the 
place  of  burial  were  given.  I  had  hardly  sealed  the  letter, 
when,  to  my  surprise.  Van  Helsing  walked  into  the  room, 
saying : — 

"Can  I  help  you,  friend  John?  I  am  free,  and  if  I  may, 
my  service  is  to  you." 

"Have  you  got  what  you  looked  for  ?"  I  asked,  to  which 
he  replied : — 

"I  did  not  look  for  any  specific  thing.  I  only  hoped  to 
find,  and  find  I  have,  all  that  there  was — only  some  letters 
and  a  few  memoranda,  and  a  diary  new  begun.  But  I  have 
them  here,  and  we  shall  for  the  present  say  nothing  of 
them.  I  shall  see  that  poor  lad  to-morrow  evening,  and, 
with  his  sanction,  I  shall  use  some." 

When  we  had  finished  the  work  in  hand,  he  said  to 
me : — 

"And  now,  friend  John,  I  think  we  may  to  bed.  W^e 
want  sleep,  both  you  and  I,  and  rest  to  recuperate.  To- 
morrow we  shall  have  much  to  do,  but  for  the  to-night 
there  is  no  need  of  us.  Alas !" 

Before  turning  in  we  went  to  look  at  poor  Lucy.  The 
undertaker  had  certainly  done  his  work  well,  for  the  room 
was  turned  into  a  small  chapelle  ardente.  There  was  a  wil- 
derness of  beautiful  white  flowers,  and  death  was  made 
as  little  repulsive  as  might  be.  The  end  of  the  winding- 
sheet  was  laid  over  the  face ;  when  the  Professor  bent  over 
and  turned  it  gently  back,  we  both  started  at  the  beauty  be- 
fore us,  the  tall  wax  candles  showing  a  sufficient  light  to 
note  it  well.  All  Lucy's  loveliness  had  come  back  to  her  in 
death,  and  the  hours  that  had  passed,  inst-ead  of  leaving 
tj-aces  of  "decay's  effacing  fingers,"  had  but  restored  the 

i8o  D  R  A  C  i>  L  A 

beauty  of  life,  till  positively  I  could  not  believe  my  eyes 
that  I  was  looking  at  a  corpse. 

The  Professor  looked  sternly  grave.  He  had  not  loved 
her  as  I  had,  and  there  was  no  need  for  tears  in  his  eyes. 
He  said  to  me :  ''Remain  till  I  return,"  and  left  the  room. 
He  came  back  with  a  handful  of  wild  garlic  from  the  box 
waiting  in  the  hall,  but  which  had  not  been  opened,  and 
placed  the  flowers  amongst  the  others  on  and  around  the 
bed.  Then  he  took  from  his  neck,  inside  his  collar,  a  little 
gold  crucifix,  and  placed  it  over  the  mouth.  He  restored 
the  sheet  to  its  place,  and  we  came  away. 

I  was  undressing  in  my  own  room,  when,  with  a  pre- 
monitory tap  at  the  door,  he  entered,  and  at  once  began 
to  speak: — 

"To-morrow  I  want  you  to  bring  me,  before  night,  a 
set  of  post-mortem  knives." 

"Must  we  make  an  autopsy?"  I  asked. 

"Yes  and  no.  I  want  to  operate,  but  not  as  you  think. 
Let  me  tell  you  now,  but  not  a  word  to  another.  I  want  to 
cut  off  her  head  and  take  out  her  heart.  Ah !  you  a  surgeon, 
and  so  shocked !  You,  whom  I  have  seen  with  no  tremble 
of  hand  or  heart,  do  operations  of  life  and  death  that 
make  the  rest  shudder.  Oh,  but  I  must  not  forget,  my  dear 
friend  John,  that  you  loved  her ;  and  I  have  not  forgotten 
it,  for  it  is  I  that  shall  operate,  and  you  must  only  help.  I 
would  like  to  do  it  to-night,  but  for  Arthur  I  must  not; 
he  will  be  free  after  his  father's  funeral  to-morrow,  and 
he  will  want  to  see  her — to  see  it.  Then,  when  she  is  cof- 
fined ready  for  the  next  day,  you  and  I  shall  come  when  all 
sleep.  We  shall  unscrew  the  coffin-lid,  and  shall  do  our 
operation;  and  then  replace  all,  so  that  none  know,  save 
we  alone." 

"But  why  do  it  at  all?  The  girl  is  dead.  Why  mutilate 
her  poor  body  without  need  ?  And  if  there  is  no  necessity 
for  a  post-mortem  and  nothing  to  gain  by  it — no  good  to 
her,  to  us,  to  science,  to  human  knowledge — why  do  it? 
Without  such  it  is  monstrous." 

For  answer  he  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  and  said, 
with^infinite  tenderness : — 

^Vriend  John.  I  pity  your  poor  bleeding  heart;  and  I 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  i8i 

love  you  the  more  because  it  does  so  bleed.  If  I  could,  I 
would  take  on  myself  the  burden  that  you  do  bear.  But 
there  are  things  that  you  know  not,  but  that  you  shall 
know,  and  bless  me  for  knowing,  though  they  are  not 
pleasant  things.  John,  my  child,  you  have  been  my  friend 
now  many  years,  and  yet  did  you  ever  know  me  to  do 
any  without  good  cause  ?  I  may  err — I  am  but  man ;  but 
I  believe  in  all  I  do.  Was  it  not  for  these  causes  that  you 
send  for  me  when  the  great  trouble  came  ?  Yes !  Were 
you  not  amazed,  nay  horrified,  when  I  would  not  let 
Arthur  kiss  his  love — though  she  was  dying — and  snatched 
him  away  by  all  my  strength  ?  Yes !  And  yet  you  saw  how 
she  thanked  me,  with  her  so  beautiful  dying  eyes,  her 
voice,  too,  so  weak,  and  she  kiss  my  rough  old  hand  and 
bless  me  ?  Yes !  And  did  you  not  hear  me  swear  promise 
to  her,  that  so  she  closed  her  eyes  grateful  ?  Yes ! 

''Well,  I  have  good  reason  now  for  all  I  want  to  do. 
You  have  for  many  years  trust  me ;  you  have  believe  me 
weeks  past,  when  there  be  things  so  strange  that  you  might 
have  well  doubt.  Believe  me  yet  a  little,  friend  John.  If 
you  trust  me  not,  then  I  must  tell  what  I  think;  and  that 
is  not  perhaps  well.  And  if  I  work — as  work  I  shall,  no 
matter  trust  or  no  trust — without  my  friend  trust  in  me, 
I  work  with  heavy  heart  and  feel,  oh!  so  lonely  when  I 
want  all  help  and  courage  that  raay  be !"  He  paused  a  mo^ 
ment  and  went  on  solemnly :  "Friend  John,  there  are 
strange  and  terrible  days  before  us.  Let  us  not  be  two, 
but  one,  that  so  we  work  to  a  good  end.  Will  you  not  have 
faith  in  me  ?" 

I  took  his  hand,  and  promised  him.  I  held  my  door  open 
as  he  went  away,  and  watched  him  go  into  his  room  and 
close  the  door.  As  I  stood  without  moving,  I  saw  one  of 
the  maids  pass  silently  along  the  passage — she  had  her 
back  towards  me,  so  did  not  see  me — and  go  into  the  room 
where  Lucy  lay.  The  sight  touched  me.  Devotion  is  so  rare, 
and  we  are  so  grateful  to  those  who  show  it  unasked  to 
those  we  love.  Here  was  a  poor  girl  putting  aside  the  ter- 
rors which  she  naturally  had  of  death  to  go  watch  alone 
by  the  bier  of  the  mistress  whom  she  loved,  so  that  the 
poor  clay  might  not  be  lonely  till  laid  to  eternal  rest.  .  .  . 

i82  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

I  must  have  slept  long  and  soundly,  for  it  was  broad 
daylight  when  Van  Helsing  waked  me  by  coming  into  my 
room.  He  came  over  to  my  bedside  and  said : — 

"You  need  not  trouble  about  the  knives ;  we  shall  not 

"Why  not?"  I  asked.  For  his  solemnity  of  the  night  be- 
fore had  greatly  impressed  me. 

"Because,"  he  said  sternly,  "it  is  too  late — or  too  early. 
See !"  Here  he  held  up  the  little  golden  crucifix.  "This 
was  stolen  in  the  night." 

"How,  stolen,"  I  asked  in  wonder,  "since  you  have  it 
now : 

"Because  I  get  it  back  from  the  worthless  wretch  who 
stole  it,  from  the  woman  who  robbed  the  dead  and  the  liv- 
ing. Her  punishment  will  surely  come,  but  not  through 
me;  she  knew  not  altogether  what  she  did,  and  thus  un- 
knowing, she  only  stole.  Now  we  must  wait." 

He  went  away  on  the  word,  leaving  me  with  a  new 
mystery  to  think  of,  a  new  puzzle  to  grapple  with. 

The  forenoon  was  a  dreary  time,  but  at  noon  the  solici- 
tor came :  Mr.  Marquand,  of  Wholeman,  Sons,  Marquand 
&  Lidderdale.  He  was  very  genial  and  very  appreciative 
of  what  we  had  done,  and  took  off  our  hands  all  cares  as 
to  details.  During  lunch  he  told  us  that  Mrs.  Westenra 
had  for  some  time  expected  sudden  death  from  her 
heart,  and  had  put  her  affairs  in  absolute  order;  he  in- 
formed us  that,  with  the  exception  of  a  certain  entailed 
property  of  Lucy's  father's  which  now,  in  default  of  direct 
issue,  went  back  to  a  distant  branch  of  the  family,  the 
whole  estate,  real  and  personal,  was  left  absolutely  to 
Arthur  Holmwood.  When  he  had  told  us  so  much  he  went 
on : — 

"Frankly  we  did  our  best  to  prevent  such  a  testamentary 
disposition,  and  pointed  out  certain  contingencies  that 
might  leave  her  daughter  either  penniless  or  not  so  free 
as  .she  should  be  to  act  regarding  a  matrimonial  alliance. 
Indc^.d,  we  pressed  the  matter  so  far  that  we  almost  came 
into  collision,  for  she  asked  us  if  we  were  or  were  not  pre- 
pared to  carry  out  her  wishes.  Of  course,  we  had  then  no 
alternati\e  out  to  accept.  We  were  right  in  principle,  and 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  183 

ninety-nine  times  out  of  a  hundred  we  should  have  proved, 
by  the  logic  of  events,  the  accuracy  of  our  judgment. 
Frankly,  however,  I  must  admit  that  in  this  case  any  other 
form  of  disposition  would  have  rendered  impossible  the 
carrying  out  of  her  wishes.  For  by  her  predeceasing  her 
daughter  the  latter  would  have  come  into  possession  of  the 
property,  and,  even  had  she  only  survived  her  mother  by 
five  minutes,  her  property  would,  in  case  there  were  no 
will — and  a  will  was  a  practical  impossibility  in  such  a  case 
— have  been  treated  at  her  decease  as  under  intestacy.  In 
which  case  Lord  Godalming,  though  so  dear  a  friend, 
would  have  had  no  claim  in  the  world ;  and  the  inheritors,, 
being  remote,  would  not  be  likely  to  abandon  their  just 
right,  for  sentimental  reasons  regarding  an  entire  stranger. 
I  assure  you,  my  dear  sirs,  I  am  rejoiced  at  the  result, 
perfectly  rejoiced." 

He  was  a  good  fellow,  but  his  rejoicing  at  the  one  little 
part — in  which  he  was  officially  interested — of  so  great  a 
tragedy,  was  an  object-lesson  in  the  limitations  of  sym- 
pathetic understanding. 

He  did  not  remain  long,  but  said  he  would  look  in  later 
in  the  day  and  see  Lord  Godalming.  His  coming,  however, 
had  been  a  certain  comfort  to  us,  since  it  assured  us  that 
we  should  not  have  to  dread  hostile  criticism  as  to  any 
of  our  acts.  Arthur  was  expected  at  five  o'clock,  so  a  little 
before  that  time  we  visited  the  death-chamber.  It  was  so 
in  very  truth,  for  now  both  mother  and  daughter  lay  in 
it.  The  undertaker,  true  to  his  craft,  had  made  the  best 
display  he  could  of  his  goods,  and  there  was  a  mortuary  air 
about  the  place  that  lowered  our  spirits  at  once.  Van  Hel- 
sing  ordered  the  former  arrangement  to  be  adhered  to, 
explaining  that,  as  Lord  Godalming  was  coming  very  soon, 
it  would  be  less  harrowing  to  his  feelings  to  see  all  that 
was  left  of  his  fiancee  quite  alone.  The  undertaker  seemed 
shocked  at  his  own  stupidity  and  exerted  himself  to  restore 
things  to  the  condition  in  which  we  left  them  the  night 
before,  so  that  when  Arthur  came  such  shocks  to  his  feel- 
ings as  we  could  avoid  were  saved. 

Poor,  fellow!  He  looked  desperately  sad  and  broken; 
even  his  stalwart  manhood  seemed  to  have  shrunk  some- 

i84  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

what  under  the  strain  of  his  much-tried  emotions.  He  had, 
I  knew,  been  very  genuinely  and  devotedly  attached  to  his 
father;  and  to  lose  him,  and  at  such  a  time,  was  a  bitter 
blow  to  him.  With  me  he  was  warm  as  ever,  and  to  Van 
Helsing  he  was  sweetly  courteous ;  but  I  could  not  help 
seeing  that  there  was  some  constraint  with  him.  The  Pro- 
fessor noticed  it,  too,  and  motioned  me  to  bring  him  up- 
stairs. I  did  so,  and  left  him  at  the  door  of  the  room,  as 
I  felt  he  would  like  to  be  quite  alone  with  her,  but  he  took 
my  arm  and  led  me  in,  saying  huskily: — 

**You  loved  her  too,  old  fellow ;  she  told  me  all  about 
it,  and  there  was  no  friend  had  a  closer  place  in  her  heart 
than  you.  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you  for  all  you  have 
done  for  her.  I  can't  think  yet.  .  .  ." 

Here  he  suddenly  broke  down,  and  threw  his  arms 
round  my  shoulders  and  laid  his  head  on  my  breast,  cry- 
ing :— 

"Oh,  Jack!  Jack!  What  shall  I  do!  The  whole  of  Hfe 
seems  gone  from  me  at  once,  and  there  is  nothing  in  the 
wide  world  for  me  to  live  for." 

I  comforted  him  as  well  as  I  could.  In  such  cases  men 
do  not  need  much  expression.  A  grip  of  the  hand,  the 
tightening  of  an  arm  over  the  shoulder,  a  sob  in  unison, 
are  expressions  of  sympathy  dear  to  a  man's  heart.  I  stood 
still  and  silent  til)  his  sobs  died  away,  and  then  I  said 
softly  to  him  : — 

**Come  and  look  at  her." 

Together  we  moved  over  to  the  bed,  and  I  lifted  the 
lawn  from  her  face.  God !  how  beautiful  she  was.  Every 
hour  seemed  to  be  enhancing  her  loveliness.  It  frightened 
and  amazed  me  somewhat;  and  as  for  Arthur,  he  fell 
a-trembling,  and  finally  was  shaken  with  doubt  as  with  an 
ague.  At  last,  after  a  long  pause,  he  said  to  me  in  a  faint 
whisper : — 

''Jack,  is  she  really  dead?" 

I  assured  him  sadly  that  it  was  so,  and  went  on  to  sug- 
gest— for  I  felt  that  such  a  horrible  doubt  should  not  have 
life  for  a  moment  longer  than  I  could  help — that  it  often 
happened  that  after  death  faces  became  softened  and  even 
resolved  into  their  youthful  beauty ;  that  this  was  especially 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  185 

SO  when  death  had  been  preceded  by  any  acute  or  pro- 
longed suffering.  It  seemed  to  quite  do  away  with  any 
doubt,  and,  after  kneeling  beside  the  couch  for  a  while 
and  looking  at  her  lovingly  and  long,  he  turned  aside.  I 
told  him  that  that  must  be  good-bye,  as  the  coffin  had  to  be 
prepared ;  so  he  went  back  and  took  her  dead  hand  in  his 
and  kissed  it,  and  bent  over  and  kissed  her  forehead.  He 
came  away,  fondly  looking  back  over  his  shoulder  at  her 
as  he  came. 

I  left  him  in  the  drawing-room,  and  told  Van  Helsing 
that  he  had  said  good-bye ;  so  the  latter  went  to  the  kitchen 
to  tell  the  undertaker's  men  to  proceed  with  the  prepara- 
ions  and  to  screw  up  the  coffin.  When  he  came  out  of  the 
room  again  I  told  him  of  Arthur's  question,  and  he  re- 
plied : — 

*'I  am  not  surprised.  Just  now  I  doubted  for  a  moment 
myself !" 

We  all  dined  together,  and  I  could  see  that  poor  Art 
was  trying  to  make  the  best  of  things.  Van  Helsing  had 
been  silent  all  dinner-time ;  but  when  we  had  lit  our  cigars 
he  said : — 

"Lord "  ;  but  Arthur  interrupted  him  : — 

**No,  no,  not  that,  for  God's  sake !  not  yet  at  any  rate. 
Forgive  me,  sir :  I  did  not  mean  to  speak  offensively ;  it  is 
only  because  my  loss  is  so  recent." 

The  Professor  answered  very  sweetly: —  , 

"I  only  used  that  name  because  I  was  in  doubt.  I  must 
not  call  you  'Mr.,'  and  I  have  grown  to  love  you — yes,  my 
dear  boy,  to  love  you — as  Arthur." 

Arthur  held  out  his  hand,  and  took  the  old  man's 

"Call  me  what  you  will,"  he  said.  "I  hope  I  may  always 
have  the  title  of  a  friend.  And  let  me  say  that  I  am  at  a 
loss  for  words  to  thank  you  for  your  goodness  to  my  poor 
dear."  He  paused  a  moment,  and  went  on:  "I  know  that 
she  understood  your  goodness  even  better  than  I  do ;  and 
if  I  was  rude  or  in  any  way  wanting  at  that  time  you  acted 
so — ^you  remember" — the  Professor  nodded — 'you  must 
forgive  me." 

i86  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

He  answered  with  a  grave  kindness : — 

"I  know  it  was  hard  for  you  to  quite  trust  me  then,  for 
to  trust  such  violence  needs  to  understand;  and  I  take  it 
that  you  do  not — that  you  cannot — trust  me  now,  for  you 
do  not  yet  understand.  And  there  may  be  more  times  when 
I  shall  want  you  to  trust  when  you  cannot — and  may  not — 
and  must  not  yet  understand.  But  the  time  will  come  when 
your  trust  shall  be  whole  and  complete  in  me,  and  when 
you  shall  understand  as  though  the  sunlight  himself  shone 
through.  Then  you  shall  bless  me  from  first  to  last  for 
your  own  sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  others,  and  for  her  dear 
sake  to  whom  I  swore  to  protect." 

**And,  indeed,  indeed,  sir,"  said  Arthur  warmly,  "1 
shall  in  all  ways  trust  you.  I  know  and  believe  you  have 
a  very  noble  heart,  and  you  are  Jack's  friend,  and  you  were 
hers.  You  shall  do  what  you  like." 

The  Professor  cleared  his  throat  a  couple  of  times,  as 
though  about  to  speak,  and  finally  said : — 

"May  I  ask  you  something  now?" 


"You  know  that  Mrs.  Westenra  left  you  all  her  prop- 

"No,  poor  dear ;  I  never  thought  of  it." 

"And  as  it  is  all  yours,  you  have  a  right  to  deal  with 
it  as  you  will.  I  want  you  to  give  me  permission  to  read 
all  Miss  Lucy's  papers  and  letters.  Believe  me,  it  is  no  idle 
curiosity.  I  have  a  motive  of  which,  be  sure,  she  would 
have  approved.  I  have  them  all  here.  I  took  them  before 
we  knew  that  all  was  yours,  so  that  no  strange  hand  might 
touch  them — no  strange  eye  look  through  words  into  her 
soul.  I  shall  keep  them,  if  I  may;  even  you  may  not  see 
them  yet,  but  I  shall  keep  them  safe.  No  word  shall  be  lost ; 
and  in  the  good  time  I  shall  give  them  back  to  you.  It's 
a  hard  thing  I  ask,  but  you  will  do  it,  will  you  not,  for 
Lucy's  sake  ?" 

Arthur  spoke  out  heartily,  like  his  old  self  : — 

"Dr.  Van  Helsing,  you  may  do  what  you  will.  I  feel  that 
in  saying  this  I  am  doing  what  my  dear  one  would  have 
approved.  I  shall  not  trouble  you  with  questions  till  the 
time  comes." 


The  old  Professor  stood  up  as  he  said  solemnly : — 
"And  you  are  right.  There  will  be  pain  for  us  all;  but 
it  will  not  be  all  pain,  nor  will  this  pain  be  the  last.  We 
and  you  too — you  most  of  all,  my  dear  boy — will  have  tc 
pass  through  the  bitter  water  before  we  reach  the  sweet. 
But  we  must  be  brave  of  heart  and  unselfish,  and  do  our 
duty,  and  all  will  be  well !" 

I  slept  on  a  sofa  in  Arthur's  room  that  night.  Van  Hel- 
sing  did  not  go  to  bed  at  all.  He  went  to  and  fro,  as  if 
patrolling  the  house,  and  was  never  out  of  sight  of  the 
room  where  Lucy  lay  in  her  coffin,  strewn  with  the  wild 
garlic  flowers,  which  sent,  through  the  odour  of 'lily  and 
rose,  a  heavy,  overpowering  smell  into  the  night. 

Mina  Marker's  Journal. 

22  September, — In  the  train  to  Exeter.  Jonathan  sleep- 

It  seems  only  yesterday  that  the  last  entry  was  made, 
and  yet  how  much  between  then,  in  Whitby  and  all  the 
world  before  me,  Jonathan  away  and  no  news  of  him ;  and 
now,  married  to  Jonathan,  Jonathan  a  solicitor,  a  partner^ 
rich,  master  of  his  business,  Mr.  Hawkins  dead  and  buriedj 
and  Jonathan  with  another  attack  that  may  harm  him; 
Some  day  he  may  ask  me  about  it.  Down  it  all  goes.  I  am 
rusty  in  my  shorthand — see  what  unexpected  prosperity 
does  for  us — so  it  may  be  as  well  to  freshen  it  up  again 
with  an  exercise  anyhow.  ... 

The  service  was  very  simple  and  very  solemn.  There 
were  only  ourselves  and  the  servants  there,  one  or  two 
old  friends  of  his  from  Exeter,  his  London  agent,  and  a 
gentleman  representing  Sir  John  Paxton,  the  President 
of  the  Incorporated  Law  Society.  Jonathan  and  I  stood 
hand  in  hand,  and  we  felt  that  our  best  and  dearest  friend 
was  gone  from  us.  .  .  . 

We  came  back  to  town  quietly,  taking  a  'bus  to  Hyde 
Park  Corner.  Jonathan  thought  it  would  interest  me  to 
go  into  the  Row  for  a  while,  so  we  sat  down;  but  there 
were  very  few  people  there,  and  it  was  sad-looking  and 
desolate  to  see  so  many  empty  chairs.  It  made  us  think 

«88  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

of  the  empty  chair  at  home;  so  we  got  up  and  walked 
down  Piccadilly.  Jonathan  was  holding  me  by  the  arm,  the 
way  he  used  to  in  the  old  days  before  I  went  to  school. 
I  felt  it  very  improper,  for  you  can't  go  on  for  some  years 
teaching  etiquette  and  decorum  to  other  girls  without  the 
pedantry  of  it  biting  into  yourself  a  bit;  but  it  was  Jona- 
than, and  he  was  my  husband,  and  we  didn't  know  any- 
body who  saw  us— and  we  didn't  care  if  they  did— so  on 
we  walked.  I  was  looking  at  a  very  beautiful  girl,  in  a  big 
cart-wheel   hat,   sitting  in   a  victoria   outside   GuiHano's, 
when  I  felt  Jonathan  clutch  my  arm  so  tight  that  he  hurt 
me,  and  he  said  under  his  breath :  "My  God !"  I  am  always 
anxious  about  Jonathan,  for  I  fear  that  some  nervous  fit 
may  upset  him  again;  so  I  turned  to  him  quickly,  and 
asked  him  what  it  was  that  disturbed  him. 

He  was  very  pale,  and  his  eyes  seemed  bulging  out  as, 
half  in  terror  and  half  in  amazement,  he  gazed  at  a  tall, 
thin  man,  with  a  beaky  nose  and  black  moustache  and 
pointed  beard,  who  was  also  observing  the  pretty  girl.  He 
was  looking  at  her  so  hard  that  he  did  not  see  either  of 
us,  and  so  I  had  a  good  view  of  him.  His  face  was  not 
a  good  face;  it  was  hard,  and  cruel,  and  sensual,  and  his 
big  white  teeth,  that  looked  all  the  whiter  because  his  lips 
were  so  red,  were  pointed  like  an  animal's.  Jonathan  kept 
staring  at  him,  till  I  was  afraid  he  would  notice.  I  feared 
he  might  take  it  ill,  he  looked  so  fierce  and  nasty.  I  asked 
Jonathan  why  he  was  disturbed,  and  he  answered,  evi- 
dently thinking  that  I  knew  as  much  about  it  as  he  did : 
*'Do  you  see  who  it  is  ?" 

"No,  dear,"  I  said;  "I  don't  know  him;  who  is  it?"  His 
answer  seemed  to  shock  and  thrill  me,  for  it  was  said  as 
if  he  did  not  know  that  it  was  to  me,  Mina,  to  whom  he 
was  speaking: — 

"It  is  the  man  himself!" 

The  poor  dear  was  evidently  terrified  at  something- 
very  greatly  terrified ;  I  do  believe  that  if  he  had  not  had 
me  to  lean  on  and  to  support  him  he  would  have  sunk 
down.  He  kept  staring ;  a  man  came  out  of  the  shop  with  a 
2i^^^l  parcel,  and  gave  it  to  the  lady,  who  then  drove  off. 
The  dark  man  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  her,  and  when  the 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  189 

carriage  moved  up  Piccadilly  he  followed  in  the  same  di- 
rection, and  hailed  a  hansom.  Jonathan  kept  lookmg  after 
him,  and  said,  as  if  to  himself  : — 

"I  believe  it  is  the  Count,  but  he  has  grown  young.  My 
God,  if  this  be  so !  Oh,  my  God !  my  God !  If  I  only  knew ! 
if  I  only  knew !"  He  was  distressing  himself  so  much  that 
I  feared  to  keep  his  mind  on  the  subject  by  asking  hmi 
any  questions,  so  I  remained  silent.  I  drew  him  away 
quietly,  and  he,  holding  my  arm,  came  easily.  We  walked 
a  little  further,  and  then  went  in  and  sat  for  a  while  m  the 
Green  Park.  It  was  a  hot  day  for  autumn,  and  there  was 
a  comfortable  seat  in  a  shady  place.  After  a  few  minutes' 
staring  at  nothing,  Jonathan's  eyes  closed,  and  he  went 
quietly  into  a  sleep,  with  his  head  on  my  shoulder.  I 
thought  it  was  the  best  thing  for  him,  so  did  not  disturb 
him.  In  about  twenty  minutes  he  woke  up,  and  said  to  me 

quite  cheerfully: —  ^,     ,     r       •  r 

''Why,  Mina,  have  I  been  asleep !  Oh,  do  forgive  me  for 
being  so  rude.  Come,  and  we'll  have  a  cup  of  tea  some- 
where." He  had  evidently  forgotten  all  about  the  dark 
stranger,  as  in  his  illness  he  had  forgotten  all  that  this 
episode  had  reminded  him  of.  I  don't  like  this  lapsing  into 
forgetfulness ;  it  may  make  or  continue  some  injury  to  the 
brain.  I  must  not  ask  him,  for  fear  I  shall  do  more  harm 
than  good;  but  I  must  somehow  learn  the  facts  of  his 
journey  abroad.  The  time  is  come,  I  fear,  when  I  must 
open  that  parcel,  and  know  what  is  written.  Oh,  Jonathan, 
you  will,  I  know,  forgive  me  if  I  do  wrong,  but  it  is  for 
your  own  dear  sake. 

Later. — A  sad  home-coming  in  every  way — the  house 
empty  of  the  dear  soul  who  was  so  good  to  us ;  Jonathan 
still  pale  and  dizzy  under  a  slight  relapse  of  his  malady ; 
and  now  a  telegram  from  Van  Helsing,  whoever  he  may 

"You  will  be  grieved  to  hear  that  Mrs.  Westenra  died 
five  days  ago,  and  that  Lucy  died  the  day  before  yesterday. 
They  were  both  buried  to-day." 

Oh,  what  a  wealth  of  sorrow  in  a  few  words !  Poor  Mrs. 
Westenra !  poor  Lucy !  Gone,  gone,  never  to  return  to  us ! 


And  poor,  poor  Arthur,  to  have  lost  such  sweetness  out  of 
his  hfe !  God  help  us  all  to  bear  our  troubles. 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

22  September. ~\t  is  all  over.  Arthur  has  gone  back  to 
King,  and  has  taken  Quincey  Morris  with  him.  What  a  fine 
fellow  IS  Quincey!  I  believe  in  my  heart  of  hearts  that  he 
suffered  as  much  about  Lucy's  death  as  any  of  us  •  but  he 
bore  himself  through  it  like  a  moral  Viking.  If  America 
can  go  on  breeding  men  like  that,  she  will  be  a  power  in 
the  world  indeed.  Van  Helsing  is  lying  down,  having  a  rest 
preparatory  to  his  journey.  He  goes  over  to  Amsterdam 
to-night,  but  says  he  returns  to-morrow  night ;  that  he  only 
wants  to  make  some  arrangements  which  can  only  be  made 
personally.  He  is  to  stop  with  me  then,  if  he  can ;  he  says 
he  has  work  to  do  in  London  which  may  take  him  some 
time.  Poor  old  fellow !  I  fear  that  the  strain  of  the  past 
week  has  broken  down  even  his  iron  strength.  All  the 
time  of  the  burial  he  was,  I  could  see,  putting  some  terrible 
restraint  on  himself.  When  it  was  all  over,  we  were  stand- 
ing beside  Arthur,  who,  poor  fellow,  was  speaking  of  his 
part  in  the  operation  where  his  blood   had  been  trans- 
fused to  his  Lucy's  veins ;  I  could  see  Van  Helsing's  face 
grow  white  and  purple  by  turns.  Arthur  was  saying  that 
he  felt  since  then  as  if  they  two  had  been  really  married 
and  that  she  was  his  wife  in  the  sight  of  God.  None  of  us 
said  a  word  of  the  other  operations,  and  none  of  us  ever 
shall.  Arthur  and  Quincey  went  awav  together  to  the  sta- 
tion, and  Van  Helsing  and  I  came  on  here.  The  moment  we 
were  alone  in  the  carriage  he  gave  way  to  a  regular  fit  of 
hysterics.  He  has  denied  to  me  since  that  it  was  hysterics 
and  insisted  that  it  was  only  his  sense  of  humour  assert- 
ing Itself  under  very  terrible  conditions.  He  laughed  till 
he  cried,  and  I  had  to  draw  down  the  blinds  lest  any  one 
should  see  us  and  misjudge;  and  then  he  cried,  till  he 
laughed  again;  and  laughed  and  cried  together,  just  as  a 
woman  does.  I  tried  to  be  stern  with  him,  as  one  is  to  a 
woman  under  the  circumstances ;  but  it  had  no  effect.  Men 
and  women  are  so  different  in  manifestations  of  nervous 

DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  191 

Strength  or  weakness !  Then  when  his  face  grew  grave  and 
stern  again  I  asked  him  why  his  mirth,  and  why  at  such  a 
time.  His  reply  was  in  a  way  characteristic  of  him,  for  it 
was  logical  and  forceful  and  mysterious.  He  said : — 

"Ah,  you  don't  comprehend,  friend  John.  Do  not  think 
that  I  am  not  sad,  though  I  laugh.  See,  I  have  cried  even 
when  the  laugh  did  choke  me.  But  no  more  think  that  I 
am  all  sorry  when  I  cry,  for  the  laugh  he  comes  just  the 
same.  Keep  it  always  with  you  that  laughter  who  knock 
at  your  door  and  say,  'May  I  come  in?'  is  not  the  true 
laughter.  No !  he  is  a  king,  and  he  come  when  and  how  he 
like.  He  ask  no  person ;  he  choose  no  time  of  suitability. 
He  say,  *I  am  here.'  Behold,  in  example  I  grieve  my  heart 
out  for  that  so  sweet  young  girl ;  I  give  my  blood  for  her, 
though  I  am  old  and  worn ;  I  give  my  time,  my  skill,  my 
sleep ;  I  let  my  other  sufferers  want  that  so  she  may  have 
all.  And  yet  I  can  laugh  at  her  very  grave — laugh  when  the 
clay  from  the  spade  of  the  sexton  drop  upon  her  coffin  and 
say  'Thud !  thud !'  to  my  heart,  till  it  send  back  the  blood 
from  my  cheek.  My  heart  bleed  for  that  poor  boy — that 
dear  boy,  so  of  the  age  of  mine  own  boy  had  I  been  so 
blessed  that  he  live,  and  with  his  hair  and  eyes  the  same. 
There,  you  know  now  why  I  love  him  so.  And  yet  when 
he  say  things  that  touch  my  husband-heart  to  the  quick, 
and  make  my  father-heart  yearn  to  him  as  to  no  other  man 
— not  even  to  you,  friend  John,  for  we  are  more  level  in 
experiences  than  father  and  son — ^yet  even  at  such  moment 
King  Laugh  he  come  to  me  and  shout  and  bellow  in  my 
ear,  'Here  I  am !  here  I  am !'  till  the  blood  come  dance  back 
and  bring  some  of  the  sunshine  that  he  carry  with  him  to 
my  cheek.  Oh,  friend  John,  it  is  a  strange  world,  a  sad 
world,  a  world  full  of  miseries,  and  woes,  and  troubles ; 
and  yet  when  King  Laugh  come  he  make  them  all  dance 
to  the  tune  he  play.  Bleeding  hearts,  and  dry  bones  of  the 
churchyard,  and  tears  that  burn  as  they  fall — all  dance 
together  to  the  music  that  he  make  with  that  smileless 
mouth  of  him.  And  believe  me,  friend  John,  that  he  is 
good  to  come,  and  kind.  Ah,  we  men  and  women  are  like 
ropes  drawn  tight  with  strain  that  pull  us  different  ways. 
Then  tears  come;  and,  like  the  rain  on  the  ropes,  they 


^race  us  up,  until  perhaps  the  strain  become  too  great,  and 
we  break.  But  King  Laugh  he  come  Hke  the  sunshine,  and 
he  ease  off  the  strain  again ;  and  we  bear  to  go  on  with  our 
labour,  what  it  may  be." 

I  did  not  like  to  wound  him  by  pretending  not  to  see 
his  idea ;  but,  as  I  did  not  yet  understand  the  cause  of  his 
laughter,  I  asked  him.  As  he  answered  me  his  face  grew 
stern,  and  he  said  in  quite  a  different  tone : — 

"Oh,  it  was  the  grim  irony  of  it  all — ^this  so  lovely  lady 
garlanded  with  flowers,  that  looked  so  fair  as  life,  till  one 
by  one  we  wondered  if  she  were  truly  dead ;  she  laid  in 
that  so  fine  marble  house  in  that  lonely  churchyard,  where 
rest  so  many  of  her  kin,  laid  there  with  the  mother  who 
loved  her,  and  whom  she  loved ;  and  that  sacred  bell  going 
'Toll!  toll!  toll!'  so  sad  and  slow;  and  those  holy  men, 
with  the  white  garments  of  the  angel,  pretending  to  read 
books,  and  yet  all  the  time  their  eyes  never  on  the  page ; 
and  all  of  us  with  the  bowed  head.  And  all  for  what  ?  She 
is  dead;. so!  Is  it  not?" 

''Well,  for  the  life  of  me.  Professor,"  I  said,  "I  can't 
see  anything  to  laugh  at  in  all  that.  Why,  your  explanation 
makes  it  a  harder  plizzle  than  before.  But  even  if  the  burial 
service  was  comic,  what  about  poor  Art  and  his  trouble? 
Why,  his  heart  was  simply  breaking." 

"Just  so.  Said  he  not  that  the  transfusion  of  his  blood 
to  her  veins  had  made  her  truly  his  bride?" 

"Yes,  and  it  was  a  sweet  and  comforting  idea  for  him." 

"Quite  so.  But  there  was  a  difficulty,  friend  John.  If  so 
that,  then  what  about  the  others?  Ho,  ho!  Then  this  so 
sweet  maid  is  a  polyandrist,  and  me,  with  my  poor  wife 
dead  to  me,  but  alive  by  Church's  law,  though  no  wits,  all 
gone — even  I,  who  am  faithful  husband  to  this  now-no- 
wife,  am  bigamist." 

"I  don't  see  where  the  joke  comes  in  there  either!"  I 
said ;  and  I  did  not  feel  particularly  pleased  with  him  for 
saying  such  things.  He  laid  his  hand  on  my  arm,  and 
said : — 

"Fiiend  John,  forgive  me  if  I  pain.  I  showed  not  my 
feeling  to  others  when  it  would  wound,  but  only  to  you, 
my  old  friend,  whom  I  can  trust.  If  you  could  have  looked 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  iqa 

into  my  very  heart  then  when  I  want  to  laugh;  if  you 
could  have  done  so  when  the  laugh  arrived ;  if  you  could 
do  so  now,  when  King  Laugh  have  pack  up  his  crown,  and 
all  that  is  to  him — for  he  go  far,  far  away  from  me,  and 
for  a  long,  long  time — maybe  you  would  perhaps  pity  me 
the  most  of  all." 

I  was  touched  by  the  tenderness  of  his  tone,  and  asked 
.    "Because  I  know !" 

And  now  we  are  all  scattered ;  and  for  many  a  long  day 
loneliness  will  sit  over  our  roofs  with  brooding  wings. 
Lucy  lies  in  the  tomb  of  her  kin,  a  lordly  death-house  in 
a  lonely  churchyard,  away  from  teeming  London;  where 
the  air  is  fresh,  and  the  sun  rises  over  Hampstead  Hill, 
and  where  wild  flowers  grow  of  their  own  accord. 

So  I  can  finish  this  diary ;  and  God  only  knows  if  I 
shall  ever  begin  another.  If  I  do,  or  if  I  even  open  this 
again,  it  will  be  a  deal  with  different  people  and  different 
themes ;  for  here  at  the  end,  where  the  romance  of  my  Hfe 
is  told,  ere  I  go  back  to  take  up  the  thread  of  my  life- 
work,  I  say  sadly  and  without  hope, 


"The  Westminster  Gazette,"  2^  September 


The  neighbourhood  of  Hampstead  is  just  at  present  ex- 
ercised with  a  series  of  events  which  seem  to  run  on  lines 
parallel  to  those  of  what  was  known  to  the  writers  of  head- 
lines as  "The  Kensington  Horror,"  or  "The  Stabbing 
Woman,"  or  "The  Woman  in  Black."  During  the  past  two 
or  three  days  several  cases  have  occurred  of  young  chil- 
dren straying  from  home  or  neglecting  to  return  from  their 
playing  on  the  Heath.  In  all  these  cases  the  children  were 
too  young  to  give  any  properly  intelligible  account  of 
themselves,  but  the  consensus  of  their  excuses  is  that  they 
had  been  with  a  "bloofer  lady."  It  has  always  been  late  in 
the  evening  when  they  have  been  missed,  and  on  two  occa- 
sions the  children  have  not  been  found  until  early  in  the 


following  morning.  It  is  generally  supposed  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood that,  as  the  first  child  missed  gave  as  his  reason 
for  being  away  that  a  "bloofer  lady"  had  asked  him  to 
come  for  a  walk,  the  others  had  picked  up  the  phrase  and 
used  it  as  occasion  served.  This  is  the  more  natural  as  the 
favourite  game  of  the  little  ones  at  present  is  luring  each 
other  away  by  wiles.  A  correspondent  writes  us  that  to  see 
some  of  the  tiny  tots  pretending  to  be  the  ''bloofer  lady"  is 
supremely  funny.  Some  of  our  caricaturists  might,  he  says, 
take  a  lesson  in  the  irony  of  grotesque  by  comparing  the 
reality  and  the  picture.  It  is  only  in  accordance  with  gen- 
eral principles  of  human  nature  that  the  "bloofer  lady" 
should  be  the  popular  role  at  these  al  fresco  performances. 
Our  correspondent  naively  says  that  even  Ellen  Terry 
could  not  be  so  winningly  attractive  as  some  of  these 
grubby-faced  little  children  pretend — and  even  imagine 
themselves — to  be. 

.  There  is,  however,  possibly  a  serious  side  to  the  ques- 
tion, for  some  of  the  children,  indeed  all  who  have  been 
missed  at  night,  have  been  slightly  torn  or  wounded  in  the 
throat.  The  wounds  seem  such  as  might  be  made  by  a  rat 
or  a  small  dog,  and  although  of  not  much  importance  indi- 
vidually, would  tend  to  show  that  whatever  animal  inflicts 
them  has  a  system  or  method  of  its  own.  The  police  of  the 
division  have  been  instructed  to  keep  a  sharp  look-out 
for  straying  children,  especially  when  very  young,  in  and 
around  Hampstead  Heath,  and  for  any  stray  dog  which 
may  be  about. 

^'TJie  Westminster  Gazette/'  2^  September. 
Extra  Special 



The  ''Bloofer  Lady." 

We  have  just  received  intelligence  that  another  child, 
missed  last  night,  was  only  discovered  late  in  the  morning 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  195 

under  a  furze  bush  at  the  Shooter's  Hill  side  of  Hamp- 
stead  Heath,  which  is,  perhaps,  less  frequented  than  the 
other  parts.  It  has  the  same  tiny  wound  in  the  throat  as  has 
been  noticed  in  other  cases.  It  was  terribly  weak,  and 
looked  quite  emaciated.  It  too,  when  partially  restored,  had 
the  common  st<-);:y  to  tell  of  being  iured  away  by  the. 
"bloofer  lady." 


MINA    barker's    journal 

2^  September. — Jonathan  is  better  after  a  bad  night.  I 
am  so  glad  that  he  has  plenty  of  work  to  do,  for  that 
keeps  his  mind  off  the  terrible  things;  and  oh,  I  am  re- 
joiced that  he  is  not  now  weighed  down  with  the  respon- 
sibility of  his  new  position.  I  knew  he  would  be  true  to 
himself,  and  now  how  proud  I  am  to  see  my  Jonathan  ris- 
ing to  the  height  of  his  advancement  and  keeping  pace  in 
'all  ways  with  the  duties  that  come  upon  him.  He  will  be 
away  all  day  till  late,  for  he  said  he  could  not  lunch  at 
home.  My  household  work  is  done,  so  I  shall  take  his 
foreign  journal,  and  lock  myself  up  in  my  room  and  read 
it.  .  .  . 

24  September. — I  hadn't  the  heart  to  write  last  night : 
that  terrible  record  of  Jonathan's  upset  me  so.  Poor  dear ! 
How  he  must  have  suffered,  whether  it  be  true  or  only 
imagmation.  I  wonder  if  there  is  any  truth  in  it  at  all.  Did 
he  get  his  brain  fever,  and  then  write  all  those  terrible 
thmgs,  or  had  he  some  cause  for  it  all  ?  I  suppose  I  shall 
never  know,  for  I  dare  not  open  the  subject  to  him.  .  .  . 
And  yet  that  man  we  saw  yesterday !  He  seemed  quite  cer- 
tam  of  him.  .  .  .  Poor  fellow !  I  suppose  it  was  the  funeral 
upset  him  and  sent  his  mind  back  on  some  train  of  thought. 
...  He  believes  it  all  himself.  I  remember  how  on  our 
weddmg-day  he  said :  "Unless  some  solemn  duty  come  up- 
on me  to  go  back  to  the  bitter  hours,  asleep  or  awake, 
mad  or  sane."  There  seems  to  be  through  it  all  some  thread 
of   contmuity.   .   .   .   That   fearful   Count  was  coming  to 

London If  it  should  be,  and  he  came  to  London,  with 

his  teeming  millions.  .  .  .  There  may  be  solemn  duty ;  and 
if  It  come  we  must  not  shrink  from  it.  ...  I  shall  be  pre- 
pared. I  shall  get  my  typewriter  this  very  hour  and  begin 



transcribing.  Then  we  shall  be  ready  for  other  eyes  if 
required.  And  if  it  be  wanted ;  then,  perhaps,  if  I  am  ready, 
poor  Jonathan  may  not  be  upset,  for  I  can  speak  for  him 
and  never  let  him  be  troubled  or  worried  with  it  at  all.  If 
ever  Jonathan  quite  gets  over  the  nervousness  he  may  want 
to  tell  me  of  it  all,  and  I  can  ask  him  questions  and  find 
out  things,  and  see  how  I  may  comfort  him. 

Letter,  Van  Helsing  to  Mrs.  Marker. 

''24  September. 
**Dear  Madam, — 

"I  pray  you  to  pardon  my  writmg,  in  that  I  am  so  far 
friend  as  that  I  sent  you  sad  news  of  Miss  Lucy  West- 
enra's  death.  By  the  kindness  of  Lord  Godalming,  I  am 
empowered  to  read  her  letters  and  papers,  for  I  am  deeply 
concerned  about  certain  matters  vitally  important.  In  them 
I  find  some  letters  from  you,  which  show  how  great 
friends  you  were  and  how  you  love  her.  Oh,  Madam  Mina, 
by  that  love,  I  implore  you,  help  me.  It  is  for  others'  good 
that  I  ask — to  redress  great  wrong,  and  to  lift  much  and 
terrible  troubles — that  may  be  more  great  than  you  can 
know.  May  it  be  that  I  see  you?  You  can  trust  me.  I  am 
friend  of  Dr.  John  Seward  and  of  Lord  Godalming  (that 
was  Arthur  of  Miss  Lucy).  I  must  keep  it  private  for  the 
present  from  all.  I  should  come  to  Exeter  to  see  you  at 
once  if  you  tell  me  I  am  privilege  to  come,  and  where  and 
when.  I  implore  your  pardon,  madam.  I  have  read  your  let- 
ters to  poor  Lucy,  and  know  how  good  you  are  and  how 
your  husband  suffer;  so  I  pray  you,  if  it  may  be,  en- 
lighten him  not,  lest  it  may  harm.  Again  your  pardon,  and 
forgive  me. 

"Van    Helsing." 

Telegram,  Mrs.  Marker  to  Van  Melsing. 

"25  September. — Come  to-day  by  quarter-past  ten  train 
if  you  can  catch  it.  Can  see  you  any  time  you  call. 


198  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

MINA    HARKER's    journal. 

25  September. — I  cannot  help  feeling  terribly  excited  as 
the  time  draws  near  for  the  visit  of  Dr.  Van  Helsing,  for 
somehow  I  expect  that  it  will  throw  some  light  upon  Jona- 
than's sad  experience;  and  as  he  attended  poor  dear  Lucy 
in  her  last  illness,  he  can  tell  me  all  about  her.  That  is  the 
reason  of  his  coming ;  it  is  concerning  Lucy  and  her  sleep- 
walking, and  not  about  Jonathan.  Then  I  shall  never  know 
the  real  truth  now !  How  silly  I  am.  That  awful  journal 
gets  hold  of  my  imagination  and  tinges  everything  with 
something  of  its  own  colour.  Of  course  it  is  about  Lucy. 
That  habit  came  back  to  the  poor  dear,  and  that  awful 
night  on  the  cliff  must  have  made  her  ill.  I  had  almost  for- 
gotten in  my  own  affairs  how  ill  she  was  afterwards.  She 
must  have  told  him  of  her  sleep-walking  adventure  on  the 
cliff,  and  that  I  knew  all  about  it ;  and  now  he  wants  me  to 
tell  him  what  she  knows,  so  that  he  may  understand.  I 
hope  I  did  right  in  not  saying  anything  of  it  to  Mrs.  West- 
enra;  I  should  never  forgive  myself  if  any  act  of  mine, 
were  it  even  a  negative  one,  brought  harm  on  poor  dear 
Lucy.  I  hope;  too,  Dr.  Van  Helsing  will  not  blame  me ;  I 
have  had  so  much  trouble  and  anxiety  of  late  that  I  feel 
I  cannot  bear  more  just  at  present. 

I  suppose  a  cry  does  us  all  good  at  times — clears  the 
air  as  other  rain  does.  Perhaps  it  was  reading  the  journal 
yesterday  that  upset  me,  and  then  Jonathan  went  away 
this  morning  to  stay  away  from  me  a  whole  day  and  night, 
the  first  time  we  have  been  parted  since  our  marriage.  I 
do  hope  the  dear  fellow  will  take  care  of  himself,  and  that 
nothing  will  occur  to  upset  him.  It  is  two  o'clock,  and  the 
doctor  will  be  here  soon  now.  I  shall  say  nothing  of  Jona- 
than's journal  unless  he  asks  me.  I  am  so  glad  I  have  type- 
written out  my  own  journal,  so  that,  in  case  he  asks  about 
Lucy,  I  can  hand  it  to  him ;  it  will  save  much  questioning. 

Later. — He  has  come  and  gone.  Oh,  what  a  strange 
meeting,  and  how  it  all  makes  my  head  whirl  round !  I  feel 
like  one  in  a  dream.  Can  it  be  all  possible,  or  even  a  part 
of  it?  If  I  had  not  read  Jonathan's  journal  first,  I  should 


never  have  accepted  even  a  possibility.  Poor,  poor,  dear 
Jonathan!  How  he  must  have  suffered.  Please  the  good 
God,  all  this  may  not  upset  him  again.  I  shall  try  to  save 
him  from  it ;  but  it  may  be  even  a  consolation  and  a  help  to 
him — ^terrible  though  it  be  and  awful  in  its  consequences — 
to  know  for  certain  that  his  eyes  and  ears  and  brain  did 
not  deceive  him,  and  that  it  is  all  true.  It  may  be  that  it  is 
the  doubt  which  haunts  him;  that  when  the  doubt  is  re- 
moved, no  matter  which — waking  or  dreaming — may 
prove  the  truth,  he  will  be  more  satisfied  and  better  able 
to  bear  the  shock.  Dr.  Van  Helsing  must  be  a  good  man 
as  well  as  a  clever  one  if  he  is  Arthur's  friend  and  Dr.  Se- 
ward's, and  if  they  brought  him  all  the  way  from  Holland 
to  look  after  Lucy.  I  feel  from  having  seen  him  that  he 
is  good  and  kind  and  of  a  noble  nature.  When  he  comes 
to-morrow  I  shall  ask  him  about  Jonathan;  and  then, 
please  God,  all  this  sorrow  and  anxiety  may  lead  to  a  good 
end.  I  used  to  think  I  would  like  to  practice  interviewing ; 
Jonathan's  friend  on  **The  Exeter  News"  told  him  that 
memory  was  everything  in  such  work — that  you  must  be 
able  to  put  down  exactly  almost  every  word  spoken,  even 
if  you  had  to  refine  some  of  it  afterwards.  Here  was  a 
rare  interview ;  I  shall  try  to  record  it  verbatim. 

It  was  half-past  two  o'clock  when  the  knock  came.  I- 
took  my  courage  a  deux  mains  and  waited.  In  a  few  min- 
utes Mary  opened  the  door,  and  announced  "Dr.  Van  Hel- 

I  rose  and  bowed,  and  he  came  towards  me ;  a  man  of 
medium  weight,  strongly  built,  with  his  shoulders  set  back 
over  a  broad,  deep  chest  and  a  neck  well  balanced  on  the 
trunk  as  the  head  is  on  the  neck.  The  poise  of  the  head 
strikes  one  at  once  as  indicative  of  thought  and  power; 
the  head  is  noble,  well-sized,  broad,  and  large  behind  the 
ears.  The  face,  clean-shaven,  shows  a  hard,  square  chin, 
a  large,  resolute,  mobile  mouth,  a  good-sized  nose,  rather 
straight,  but  with  quick,  sensitive  nostrils,  that  seem  to 
broaden  as  the  big,  bushy  brows  come  down  and  the  mouth 
tightens.  The  forehead  is  broad  and  fine,  rising  at  first  al- 
most straight  and  then  sloping  back  above  two  bumps  of 
ridges  wide  apart;  such  a  forehead  that  the  reddish  hail 


cannot  possibly  tumble  over  it,  but  falls  naturally  back  and 
to  the  sides.  Big,  dark  blue  eyes  are  set  widely  apart,  and 
are  quick  and  tender  or  stern  with  the  man's  moods.  He 
said  to  me : — 

"Mrs.  Harker,  is  it  not?"  I  bowed  assent. 

"That  was  Miss  Mina  Murray?"  Again  I  assented. 

*Tt  is  Mina  Murray  that  I  came  to  see  that  was  friend 
of  that  poor  dear  child  Lucy  Westenra.  Madam  Mina,  it 
is  on  account  of  the  dead  I  come." 

"Sir,"  I  said,  "you  could  have  no  better  claim  on  me 
than  that  you  were  a  friend  and  helper  of  Lucy  Wes- 
tenra." And  I  held  out  my  hand.  He  took  it  and  said 
tenderly : — 

"Oh,   Madam   Mina,   I   knew  that  the   friend  of   that 

poor  lily  girl  must  be  good,  but  I  had  yet  to  learn "  He 

finished  his  speech  with  a  courtly  bow.  I  asked  him  what  it 
was  that  he  wanted  to  see  me  about,  so  he  at  once  began : — 

"I  have  read  your  letters  to  Miss  Lucy.  Forgive  me,  but 
I  had  to  begin  to  inquire  somewhere,  and  there  was  none 
to  ask.  I  know  that  you  were  with  her  at  Whitby.  She 
sometimes  kept  a  diary — ^you  need  not  look  surprised. 
Madam  Mina;  it  was  begun  after  you  had  left,  and  was 
in  imitation  of  you — and  in  that  diary  she  traces  by  infer- 
ence certain  things  to  a  sleep-walking  in  which  she  puts 
down  that  you  saved  her.  In  great  perplexity  then  I  come 
to  you,  and  ask  you  out  of  your  so  much  kindness  to  tell 
me  all  of  it  that  you  can  remember." 

"I  can  tell  you,  I  think.  Dr.  Van  Helsing,  all  about  it." 

"Ah,  then  you  have  good  memory  for  facts,  for  details  ? 
It  is  not  always  so  with  young  ladies." 

"No,  doctor,  but  I  wrote  it  all  down  at  the  time.  I  can 
show  it  to  you  if  you  like." 

"Oh,  Madam  Mina,  I  will  be  grateful ;  you  will  do 
me  much  favour."  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  mys- 
tifying him  a  bit — I  suppose  it  is  some  of  the  taste  of  the 
original  apple  that  remains  still  in  our  mouths — so  I 
handed  him  the  shorthand  diary.  He  took  it  with  a  grateful 
how,  and  said : — 

"May  I  read  it?" 


*'If  you  wish,"  I  answered  as  demurely  as  I  could.  He 
opened  it,  and  for  an  instant  his  face  fell.  Then  he  stood 
up  and  bowed. 

"Oh,  you  so  clever  woman !"  he  said.  "I  knew  long  that 
Mr.  Jonathan  was  a  man  of  much  thankfulness;  but  see, 
his  wife  have  all  the  good  things.  And  will  you  not  so 
much  honour  me  and  so  help  me  as  to  read  it  for  me? 
Alas!  I  know  not  the  shorthand."  By  this  time  my  little 
joke  was  over,  and  I  was  almost  ashamed ;  so  I  took  the 
typewritten  copy  from  my  workbasket  and  handed  it  to 

"Forgive  me,"  I  said:  "I  could  not  help  it;  but  I  had 
been  thinking  that  it  was  of  dear  Lucy  that  you  wished  to, 
ask,  and  so  that  you  might  not  have  time  to  wait — not  on 
my  account,  but  because  I  know  your  time  must  be  pre- 
cious— I  have  written  it  out  on  the  typewriter  for  you." 

He  took  it  and  his  eyes  glistened.  "You  are  so  good," 
he  said.  "And  may  I  read  it  now  ?  I  may  want  to  ask  you 
some  things  when  I  have  read." 

"By  all  means,"  I  said,  "read  it  over  whilst  I  order, 
lunch ;  and  then  you  can  ask  me  questions  whilst  we  eat." 
He  bowed  and  settled  himself  in  a  chair  with  his  back 
to  the  light,  and  became  absorbed  in  the  papers,  whilst  I 
went  to  see  after  lunch  chiefly  in  order  that  he  might  not  be 
disturbed.  When  I  came  back,  I  found  him  walking  hur- 
riedly up  and  down  the  room,  his  face  all  ablaze  with  ex- 
citement. He  rushed  up  to  me  and  took  me  by  both  hands. 

"Oh,  Madam  Mina,"  he  said,  "how  can  I  say  what  I 
owe  to  you?  This  paper  is  as  sunshine.  It  opens  the  gate 
to  me.  I  am  daze,  I  am  dazzle,  with  so  much  light,  and  yet 
clouds  roll  in  behind  the  light  every  time.  But  that  you 
do  not,  cannot,  comprehend.  Oh,  but  I  am  grateful  to  you, 
you  so  clever  woman.  Madam" — he  said  this  very  solemnly 
— "if  ever  Abraham  Van  Helsing  can  do  anything  for 
you  or  yours,  I  trust  you  will  let  me  know.  It  will  be 
pleasure  and  delight  if  I  may  serve  you  as  a  friend ;  as  a 
friend,  but  all  I  have  ever  learned,  all  I  can  ever  do,  shall 
be  for  you  and  those  you  love.  There  are  darknesses  in 
life,  and  there  are  lights;  you  are  one  of  the  lights.  You 


will  have  happy  life  and  good  life,  and  your  husband  will 
be  blessed  in  you." 

"But,  doctor,  you  praise  me  too  much,  and — and  you 
do  not  know  me." 

"Not  know  you — I,  who  am  old,  and  who  have  studied 
all  my  life  men  and  women;  I,  who  have  made  my  spe- 
cialty the  brain  and  all  that  belongs  to  him  and  all  thai 
follow  from  him!  And  I  have  read  your  diary  that  you 
have  so  goodly  written  for  me,  and  which  breathes  out 
truth  in  every  line.  I,  who  have  read  your  so  sweet  letter 
to  poor  Lucy  of  your  marriage  and  your  trust,  not  know 
you!  Oh,  Madam  Mina,  good  women  tell  all  their  Hves, 
and  by  day  and  by  hour  and  by  minute,  such  things  that 
angels  can  read ;  and  we  men  who  wish  to  know  have 
in  us  something  of  angels'  eyes.  Your  husband  is  noble 
nature,  and  you  are  noble  too,  for  you  trust,  and  trust 
cannot  be  where  there  is  mean  nature.  And  your  husband 
— ^tell  me  of  him.  Is  he  quite  well?  Is  all  that  fever  gone,: 
and  is  he  strong  and  hearty?"  I  saw  here  an  opening  to 
ask  him  about  Jonathan,  so  I  said : — 

"He  was  almost  recovered,  but  he  has  been  greatly  up- 
set by  Mr.  Hawkins's  death."  He  interrupted : — 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know,  I  know.  I  have  read  your  last  two 
letters."  I  went  on : — 

"I  suppose  this  upset  him,  for  when  we  were  in  town 
on  Thursday  last  he  had  a  sort  of  shock." 

"A  shock,  and  after  brain  fever  so  soon!  That  was  not 
good.  What  kind  of  a  shock  was  it?" 

"He  thought  he  saw  some  one  who  recalled  something 
terrible,  something  which  led  to  his  brain  fever."  And  here 
the  whole  thing  seemed  to  overwhelm  me  in  a  rush.  The 
pity  for  Jonathan,  the  horror  which  he  experienced,  the 
whole  fearful  mystery  of  his  diary,  and  the  fear  that  has 
been  brooding  over  me  ever  since,  all  came  in  a  tumult. 
I  suppose  I  was  hysterical,  for  I  threw  myself  on  my  knees 
and  held  up  my  hands  to  him,  and  implored  him  to  make 
my  husband  well  again.  He  took  my  hands  and  raised  me 
up,  and  made  me  sit  on  the  sofa,  and  sat  by  me;  he  held 
my  hand  in  his,  and  said  to  me  with,  oh,  such  infinite 
sweetness : — 


"My  life  is  a  barren  and  lonely  one,  and  so  full  of  work 
that  I  have  not  had  much  time  for  friendships ;  but  since 
I  have  been  summoned  to  here  by  my  friend  John  Seward 
I  have  known  so  many  good  people  and  seen  such  nobility 
that  I  feel  more  than  ever — and  it  has  grown  with  my  ad- 
vancing years — the  loneliness  of  my  life.  BeHeve,  me,  then, 
that  I  come  here  full  of  respect  for  you,  and  you  have 
given  me  hope — hope,  not  in  what  I  am  seeking  of,  but 
that  there  are  good  women  still  left  to  make  life  happy 
— good  women,  whose  lives  and  whose  truths  may  make 
good  lesson  for  the  children  that  are  to  be.  I  am  glad,  glad, 
that  I  may  here  be  of  some  use  to  you;  for  if  your  hus- 
band suffer,  he  suffer  within  the  range  of  my  study  and 
experience,  I  promise  you  that  I  will  gladly  do  all  for  him 
that  I  can — all  to  make  his  life  strong  and  manly,  and  your 
life  a  happy  one.  Now  you  must  eat.  You  are  overwrought 
and  perhaps  over-anxious.  Husband  Jonathan  would  not 
like  to  see  you  so  pale ;  and  what  he  like  not  where  he 
love,  is  not  to  his  good.  Therefore  for  his  sake  you  must 
eat  and  smile.  You  have  told  me  all  about  Lucy,  and  so 
now  we  shall  not  speak  of  it,  lest  it  distress.  I  shall  stay 
in  Exeter  to-night,  for  I  want  to  think  much  over  what 
you  have  told  me,  and  when  I  have  thought  I  will  ask  you 
questions,  if  I  may.  And  then,  too,  you  will  tell  me  of 
husband  Jonathan's  trouble  so  far  as  you  can,  but  not 
yet.  You  must  eat  now ;  afterwards  you  shall  tell  me  all." 

After  lunch,  when  we  went  back  to  the  drawing-room, 
he  said  to  me  : — 

''And  now  tell  me  all  about  him."  When  it  came  to 
speaking  to  this  great  learned  man,  I  began  to  fear  that  he 
would  think  me  a  weak  fool,  and  Jonathan  a  madman — 
that  journal  is  all  so  strange — and  I  hesitated  to  go  on. 
But  he  was  so  sweet  and  kind,  and  he  had  promised  to 
help,  and  I  trusted  him,  so  I  said : — 

"Dr.  Van  Helsing,  what  I  have  to  tell  you  is  so  queer 
that  you  must  not  laugh  at  me  or  at  my  husband.  I  have 
been  since  yesterday  in  a  sort  of  fever  of  doubt ;  you  must 
be  kind  to  me,  and  not  think  me  foolish  that  I  have  even 
half  believed  some  very  strange  things."  He  reassured  me 
by  his  manner  as  well  as  his  words  when  he  said : — 

204  D  R  A  G  U  L  A 

"Oh,  my  dear,  if  you  only  know  how  strange  is  the 
matter  regarding  which  I  am  here,  it  is  you  who  would 
laugh.  I  have  learned  not  to  think  little  of  any  one's  belief, 
no  matter  how  strange  it  be.  I  have  tried  to  keep  an  open 
mind;  and  it  is  not  the  ordinary  things  of  life  that  could 
close  it,  but  the  strange  things,  the  extraordinary  things, 
the  things  that  make  one  doubt  if  they  be  mad  or  sane." 

"Thank  you,  thank  you,  a  thousand  times !  You  have 
taken  a  weight  off  my  mind.  If  you  will  let  me,  I  shall 
give  you  a  paper  to  read.  It  is  long,  but  I  have  typewritten 
it  out.  It  will  tell  you  my  trouble  and  Jonathan's.  It  is  the 
copy  of  his  journal  when  abroad,  and  all  that  happened.  I 
dare  not  say  anything  of  it ;  you  will  read  for  yourself  and 
judge.  And  then  when  I  see  you,  perhaps,  you  will  be  very 
kind  and  tell  me  what  you  think." 

"I  promise,"  he  said  as  I  gave  him  the  papers ;  "I  shall 
in  the  morning,  so  soon  as  I  can,  come  to  see  you  and 
your  husband,  if  I  may." 

"Jonathan  will  be  here  at  half -past  eleven,  and  you  must 
come  to  lunch  with  us  and  see  him  then;  you  could  catch 
the  quick  3 :  34  train,  which  will  leave  you  at  Paddington 
before  eight."  He  was  surprised  at  my  knowledge  of  the 
trains  off-hand,  but  he  does  not  know  that  I  have  made  up 
all  the  trains  to  and  from  Exeter,  so  that  I  may  help  Jona- 
than in  case  he  is  in  a  hurry. 

So  he  took  the  papers  with  him  and  went  away,  and  I 
sit  here  thinking — thinking  I  don't  know  what. 

Letter  (by  hand),  Van  Helsing  to  Mrs.  Harker. 

"2^  September,  6  o'clock. 
"Dear  Madam  Mina, — 

"I  have  read  your  husband's  so  wonderful  diary.  You 
may  sleep  without  doubt.  Strange  and  terrible  as  it  is,  it 
is  true!  I  will  pledge  my  life  on  it.  It  may  be  worse  for 
others;  but  for  him  and  you  there  is  no  dread.  He  is  a 
noble  fellow ;  and  let  me  tell  you  from  experience  of  men, 
that  one  who  would  do  as  he  did  in  going  down  that  wall 
and  to  that  room — ay,  and  going  a  second  time — is  not  one 
to  be  injured  in  permanence  by  a  shock.  His  brain  and  his 


heart  are  all  right ;  this  I  swear,  before  I  have  even  seen 
him ;  so  be  at  rest.  I  shall  have  much  to  ask  him  of  other 
things.  I  am  blessed  that  to-day  I  come  to  see  you,  for 
I  have  learn  all  at  once  so  much  that  again  I  am  dazzle — 
dazzle  more  than  ever,  and  I  must  think. 

"Yours  the  most  faithful, 

"Abraham  Van  Helsing." 

Letter,  Mrs.  Marker  to  Van  Helsing. 

'*2^  September,  6:  jo  p.  m. 
"My  dear  Dr.  Van  Helsing,— 

"A  thousand  thanks  for  your  kind  letter,  which  has 
taken  a  great  weight  off  my  mind.  And  yet,  if  it  be  true, 
what  terrible  things  there  are  in  the  world,  and  what  an 
awful  thing  if  that  man,  that  monster,  be  really  in  London  ! 
I  fear  to  think.  I  have  this  moment,  whilst  writing,  had  a 
wire  from  Jonathan,  saying  that  he  leaves  by  the  6 :  25  to- 
night from  Launceston  and  will  be  here  at  10:  18,  so  that 
I  shall  have  no  fear  to-night.  Will  you,  therefore,  instead 
of  lunching  with  us,  please  come  to  breakfast  at  eight 
o'clock,  if  this  be  not  too  early  for  you  ?  You  can  get  away, 
if  you  are  in  a  hurry,  by  the  10:  30  train,  which  will  bring 
you  to  Paddington  by  2 :  35.  Do  not  answer  this,  as  I  shall 
take  it  that,  if  I  do  not  hear,  you  will  come  to  breakfast. 
"Believe  me, 

"Your  faithful  and  grateful  friend, 
"MiNA  Harker.'' 

Jonathan  Marker  s  Journal. 

26  September. — I  thought  never  to  write  in  this  diary 
again,  but  the  time  has  come.  When  I  got  home  last  night 
Mina  had  supper  ready,  and  when  we  had  supped  she  told 
me  of  Van  Helsing's  visit,  and  of  her  having  given  him 
the  two  diaries  copied  out,  and  of  how  anxious  she  has 
been  about  me.  She  showed  me  in  the  doctor's  letter  thac 
all  I  wrote  down  was  true.  It  seems  to  have  made  a  new 
man  of  me.  It  was  the  doubt  as  to  the  reality  of  the  whole 


thing  that  knocked  me  over.  I  felt  impotent,  and  in  the 
dark,  and  distrustful.  But,  now  that  I  know,  I  am  not 
afraid,  even  of  the  Count.  He  has  succeeded  after  all,  then, 
in  his  design  in  getting  to  London,  and  it  was  he  I  saw. 
He  has  got  younger,  and  how  ?  Van  Helsing  is  the  man  to 
unmask  him  and  hunt  him  out,  if  he  is  anything  like  what 
Mina  says.  We  sat  late,  and  talked  it  all  over.  Mina  is 
dressing,  and  I  shall  call  at  the  hotel  in  a  few  minutes  and 
bring  him  over.  .  .  . 

He  was,  I  think,  surprised  to  see  me.  When  I  came 
into  the  room  where  he  was,  and  introduced  myself,  he 
took  me  by  the  shoulder,  and  turned  my  face  round  to  the 
light,  and  said,  after  a  sharp  scrutiny : — 

"But  Madam  Mina  told  me  you  were  ill,  that  you  had 
had  a  shock."  It  was  so  funny  to  hear  my  wife  called 
"Madam  Mina"  by  this  kindly,  strong-faced  old  man.  I 
smiled,  and  said  : — 

"I  was  ill,  I  have  had  a  shock;  but  you  have  cured  me 

"And  how?" 

"By  your  letter  to  Mina  last  night.  I  was  in  doubt,  and 
then  everything  took  a  hue  of  unreality,  and  I  did  not 
know  what  to  trust,  even  the  evidence  of  my  own  senses. 
Not  knowing  what  to  trust,  I  did  not  know  what  to  do; 
and  so  had  only  to  keep  on  working  in  what  had  hitherto 
been  the  groove  of  my  life.  The  groove  ceased  to  avail  me, 
and  I  mistrusted  myself.  Doctor,  you  don't  know  what  it 
is  to  doubt  everything,  even  yourself.  No,  you  don't ;  you 
couldn't  with  eyebrows  like  yours."  He  seemed  pleased, 
and  laughed  as  he  said : — 

"So!  You  are  physiognomist.  I  learn  more  here  with 
each  hour.  I  am  with  so  much  pleasure  coming  to  you  to 
breakfast ;  and,  oh,  sir,  you  will  pardon  praise  from  an  old 
man,  but  you  are  blessed  in  your  wife."  I  would  listen  to 
him  go  on  praising  Mina  for  a  day,  so  I  simply  nodded 
and  stood  silent. 

"She  is  one  of  God's  women,  fashioned  by  His  own 
hand  to  show  us  men  and  other  women  that  there  is  a 
heaven  where  we  can  enter,  and  that  its  light  can  be  here 
on  earth.  So  true,  so  sweet,  so  noble,  so  little  an  egoist — 


and  that,  let  me  tell  you,  is  much  in  this  age,  so  sceptical 
and  selfish.  And  you,  sir — I  have  read  all  the  letters  to 
poor  Miss  Lucy,  and  some  of  them  speak  of  you,  so  I 
know  you  since  some  days  from  the  knowing  of  others; 
but  I  have  seen  your  true  self  since  last  night.  You  will 
give  me  your  hand,  will  you  not?  And  let  us  be  friends 
for  all  our  lives." 

We  shook  hands,  and  he  was  so  earnest  and  so  kind 
that  it  made  me  quite  choky. 

"And  now,"  he  said,  "may  I  ask  you  for  some  more 
help?  I  have  a  great  task  to  do,  and  at  the  beginning  it  is 
to  know.  You  can  help  me  here.  Can  you  tell  me  what  went 
before  your  going  to  Transylvania?  Later  on  I  may  ask 
more  help,  and  of  a  different  kind ;  but  at  first  this  will 

"Look  here,  sir,"  I  said,  "does  what  you  have  to  do 
concern  the  Count?" 

"It  does,"  he  said  solemnly. 

"Then  I  am  with  you  heart  and  soul.  As  you  go  by  the 
10:30  train,  you  will  not  have  time  to  read  them;  but  I 
shall  get  the  bundle  of  papers.  You  can  take  them  with 
you  and  read  them  in  the  train." 

After  breakfast  I  saw  him  to  the  station.  When  we  were 
parting  he  said : — 

"Perhaps  you  will  come  to  town  if  I  send  to  you,  and 
take  IVTadam  Mina  too." 

"We  shall  both  come  when  you  will,"  I  said. 

I  had  got  him  the  morning  papers  and  the  London 
papers  of  the  previous  night,  and  while  we  were  talking 
at  the  carriage  window,  waiting  for  the  train  to  start,  he 
was  turning  them  over.  His  eyes  suddenly  seemed  to  catch 
something  in  one  of  them,  "The  Westminster  Gazette"— 
I  knew  it  by  the  colour — and  he  grew  quite  white.  He  read 
something  intently,  groaning  to  himself:  "Mein  Gott! 
Mein  Gott !  So  soon !  so  soon !"  I  do  not  think  he  remem- 
bered me  at  the  moment.  Just  then  the  whistle  blew,  and 
the  train  moved  off.  This  recalled  him  to  himself,  and  he 
leaned  out  of  the  window  and  waved  his  hand,  calling  out : 
"Love  to  Madam  Mina;  I  shall  write  so  soon  as  ever  I 


Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

26  September. — Truly  there  is  no  such  thing  as  final- 
ity. Not  a  week  since  I  said  "Finis,"  and  yet  here  I  am 
starting  fresh  again,  or  rather  going  on  with  the  same 
record.  Until  this  afternoon  I  had  no  cause  to  think  of 
what  is  done.  Renfield  had  become,  to  all  intents,  as  sane 
as  he  ever  was.  He  was  already  well  ahead  with  his  fly 
business;  and  he  had  just  started  in  the  spider  line  also; 
so  he  had  not  been  of  any  trouble  to  me.  I  had  a  letter 
from  Arthur,  written  on  Sunday,  and  from  it  I  gather  that 
he  is  bearing  up  wonderfully  well.  Quincey  Morris  is  with 
him,  and  that  is  much  of  a  help,  for  he  himself  is  a  bub- 
bling well  of  good  spirits.  Quincey  wrote  me  a  line  too, 
and  from  him  I  hear  that  Arthur  is  beginning  to  recover 
something  of  his  old  buoyancy ;  so  as  to  them  all  my  mind 
is  at  rest.  As  for  myself,  I  was  settling  down  to  my  work 
with  the  enthusiasm  which  I  used  to  have  for  it,  so  that  I 
might  fairly  have  said  that  the  wound  which  poor  Lucy 
left  on  me  was  becoming  cicatrised.  Everything  is,  how- 
ever, now  reopened ;  and  what  is  to  be  the  end  God  only 
knows.  I  have  an  idea  that  Van  Helsing  thinks  he  knows, 
too,  but  he  will  only  let  out  enough  at  a  time  to  whet  curi- 
osity. He  went  to  Exeter  yesterday,  and  stayed  there  all 
night.  To-day  he  came  back,  and  almost  bounded  into  the 
room  at  about  half -past  five  o'clock,  and  thrust  last  night's 
^'Westminster  Gazette"  into  my  hand. 

''What  do  you  think  of  that?"  he  asked  as  he  stood  back 
and  folded  his  arms. 

I  looked  over  the  paper,  for  I  really  did  not  know  what 
he  meant ;  but  he  took  it  from  me  and  pointed  out  a  para- 
graph about  children  being  decoyed  away  at  Hampstead. 
It  did  not  convey  much  to  me,  until  I  reached  a  passage 
where  it  described  small  punctured  wounds  on  their 
throats.  An  idea  struck  me,  and  I  looked  up.  "Well?"  he 

"It  is  like  poor  Lucy's." 

"And  what  do  you  make  of  it  ?" 

"Simply  that  there  is  some  cause  in  common.  Whatever 


it  was  that  injured  her  has  injured  them."  I  did  not  quite 
understand  his  answer  : — 

"That  is  true  indirectly,  but  not  directly." 

"How  do  you  mean,  Professor?"  I  asked.  I  was  a  little 
inclined  to  take  his  seriousness  hghtly — for,  after  all,  four 
days  of  rest  and  freedom  from  burning,  harrowing  anxiety 
does  help  to  restore  one's  spirits-r-but  when  I  saw  his  face, 
it  sobered  me.  Never,  even  in  the  midst  of  our  despair 
about  poor  Lucy,  had  he  looked  more  stern. 

"Tell  me !"  I  said.  "I  can  hazard  no  opinion.  I  do  not 
know  what  to  think,  and  I  have  no  data  on  which  to  found 
a  conjecture." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  friend  John,  that  you  have  no 
suspicion  as  to  what  poor  Lucy  died  of ;  not  after  all  the 
hints  given,  not  only  by  events,  but  by  me?" 

"Of  nervous  prostration  following  on  great  loss  or  waste 
of  blood." 

"And  how  the  blood  lost  or  waste?"  I  shook  my  head. 
He  stepped  over  and  sat  down  beside  me,  and  went  on  :— 

"You  are  clever  man,  friend  John ;  you  reason  well,  and 
your  wit  is  bold;  but  you  are  too  prejudiced.  You  do  not 
let  your  eyes  see  nor  your  ears  hear,  and  that  which  is  out- 
side your  daily  life  is  not  of  account  to  you.  Do  you  not 
think  that  there  are  things  which  you  cannot  understand, 
and  yet  which  are ;  that  some  people  see  thing  that  others 
cannot  ?  But  there  are  things  old  and  new  which  must  not 
be  contemplate  by  men's  eyes,  because  they  know — or  think 
they  know — some  things  which  other  men  have  told  them. 
Ah,  it  is  the  fault  of  our  science  that  it  wants  to  explain 
all ;  and  if  it  explain  not,  then  it  says  there  is  nothing  to 
explain.  But  yet  we  see  around  us  every  day  the  growth  of 
new  beliefs,  which  think  themselves  new ;  and  which  are 
yet  but  the  old,  which  pretend  to  be  young — like  the  fine 
ladies  at  the  opera.  I  suppose  now  ^ou  do  not  believe  in 
corporeal  transference.  No?  Nor  in  materialisation.  No? 
Nor  in  astral  bodies.  No?  Nor  in  the  reading  of  thought. 
No  ?  Nor  in  hypnotism " 

"Yes,"  I  said.  "Charcot  has  proved  that  pretty  well.'* 
He  smiled  as  he  went  on :  "Then  you  are  satisfied  as  to  it. 
Yes?  And  of  course  then  you  understand  how  it  act,  and 


can  follow  the  mind  of  the  great  Charcot — alas  that  he  is 
no  more! — into  the  very  soul  of  the  patient  that  he  influ- 
ence. No  ?  Then,  friend  John,  am  I  to  take  it  that  you  sim- 
ply accept  fact,  and  are  satisfied  to  let  from  premise 
to  conclusion  be  a  blank?  No?  Then  tell  me — for  I  am 
student  of  the  brain — how  you  accept  the  hypnotism  and 
reject  the  thought  reading.  Let  me  tell  you,  my  friend, 
that  there  are  things  done  to-day  in  electrical  science  which 
would  have  been  deemed  unholy  by  the  very  men  who  dis- 
covered electricity — ^who  would  themselves  not  so  long  be- 
fore have  been  burned  as  wizards.  There  are  always 
mysteries  in  life.  Why  was  it  that  Methuselah  lived  nine 
hundred  years,  and  'Old  Parr'  one  hundred  and  sixty-nine, 
and  yet  that  poor  Lucy,  with  four  men's  blood  in  her  poor 
veins,  could  not  live  even  one  day?  For,  had  she  live  one 
more  day,  we  could  have  save  her.  Do  you  know  all  the 
mystery  of  life  and  death  ?  Do  you  know  the  altogether  of 
comparative  anatomy  and  can  say  wherefore  the  qualities 
of  brutes  are  in  some  men,  and  not  in  others  ?  Can  you  tell 
me  why,  when  other  spiders  die  small  and  soon,  that  one 
great  spider  lived  for  centuries  in  the  tower  of  the  old 
Spanish  church  and  grew  and  grew,  till,  on  descending,  he 
could  drink  the  oil  of  all  the  church  lamps?  Can  you  tell 
me  why  in  the  Pampas,  ay  and  elsewhere,  there  are  bats 
that  come  at  night  and  open  the  veins  of  cattle  and  horses 
and  suck  dry  their  veins ;  how  in  some  islands  of  the  West- 
ern seas  there  are  bats  which  hang  on  the  trees  all  day, 
and  those  who  have  seen  describe  as  like  giant  nuts  or 
pods,  and  that  when  the  sailors  sleep  on  the  deck,  because 
that  it  is  hot,  flit  down  on  them,  and  then — and  then  in  the 
morning  are  found  dead  men,  white  as  even  Miss  Lucy 

"Good  God,  Professor !"  I  said,  starting  up.  "Do  you 
mean  to  tell  me  that  Lucy  was  bitten  by  such  a  bat ;  and 
that  such  a  thing  is  here  in  London  in  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury ?"  He  waved  his  hand  for  silence,  and  went  on : — 

"Can  you  tell  me  why  the  tortoise  lives  more  long  than 
generations  of  men ;  why  the  elephant  goes  on  and  on  till 
he  have  seen  dynasties ;  and  why  the  parrot  never  die  only 
of  bite  of  cat  or  dog  or  other  complaint  ?  Can  you  tell  me 


why  men  believe  in  all  ages  and  places  that  there  are  some 
few  who  live  on  always  if  they  be  permit ;  that  there  are 
men  and  women  who  cannot  die?  We  all  know — ^because 
science  has  vouched  for  the  fact — ^that  there  have  been 
toads  shut  up  in  rocks  for  thousands  of  years,  shut  in  one 
so  small  hole  that  only  hold  him  since  the  youth  of  the 
world.  Can  you  tell  me  how  the  Indian  fakir  can  make 
himself  to  die  and  have  been  buried,  and  his  grave  sealed 
and  corn  sowed  on  it,  and  the  corn  reaped  and  be  cut  and 
sown  and  reaped  and  cut  again,  and  then  men  come  and 
take  the  unbroken  seal  and  that  there  lie  the  Indian  fakir, 
not  dead,  but  that  rise  up  and  walk  amongst  them  as  be- 
fore ?"  Here  I  interrupted  him.  I  was  getting  bewildered : 
he  so  crowded  on  my  mind  his  list  of  nature's  eccentricities 
and  possible  possibilities  that  my  imagination  was  getting 
fired.  I  had  a  dim  idea  that  he  was  teaching  me  some  les- 
son, as  long  ago  he  used  to  do  in  his  study  at  Amsterdam ; 
but  he  used  then  to  tell  me  the  thing,  so  that  I  could  have 
the  object  of  thought  in  mind  all  the  time.  But  now  I  was 
without  this  help,  yet  I  wanted  to  follow  him,  so  I  said : — • 

** Professor,  let  me  be  your  pet  student  again.  Tell  me  the 
thesis,  so  that  I  may  apply  your  knowledge  as  you  go  on. 
At  present  I  am  going  in  my  mind  from  point  to  point  as 
a  mad  man,  and  not  a  sane  one,  follows  an  idea.  I  feel  like 
a  novice  lumbering  through  a  bog  in  a  mist,  jumping  from 
one  tussock  to  another  in  the  mere  blind  effort  to  move  on 
without  knowing  where  I  am  going." 

'That  is  good  image,"  he  said.  "Well,  I  shall  tell  you. 
My  thesis  is  this  :  I  want  you  to  believe." 

"To  believe  what  ?" 

"To  believe  in  things  that  you  cannot.  Let  me  illustrate. 
I  heard  once  of  an  American  who  so  defined  faith:  'that 
faculty  which  enables  us  to  believe  things  which  we  know 
to  be  untrue.'  For  one,  I  follow  that  man.  He  meant  that 
we  shall  have  an  open  mind,  and  not  let  a  little  bit  of  truth 
check  the  rush  of  a  big  truth,  like  a  small  rock  does  a  rail- 
way truck.  We  get  the  small  truth  first.  Good!  We  keep 
him,  and  we  value  him;  but  all  the  same  we  must  not  let 
him  think  himself  all  the  truth  in  the  universe." 

"Then  you  want  me  not  to  let  some  previous  conviction 


injure  the  receptivity  of  my  mind  with  regard  to  some 
strange  matter.  Do  I  read  your  lesson  aright  ?" 

"Ah,  you  are  my  favourite  pupil  still.  It  is  worth  to  teach 
you.  Now  that  you  are  willing  to  understand,  you  have 
taken  the  first  step  to  understand.  You  think  then  that 
those  so  small  holes  in  the  children's  throats  were  made  by 
the  same  that  made  the  hole  in  Miss  Lucy  ?" 

"I  suppose  so."  He  stood  up  and  said  solemnly : — 

"Then  you  are  wrong.  Oh,  would  it  were  so !  but  alas ! 
no.  It  is  worse,  far,  far  worse." 

"In  God's  name,  Professor  V^an  Helsing,  what  do  you 
mean?"  I  cried. 

He  threw  himself  with  a  despairing  gesture  into  a  chair, 
and  placed  his  elbows  on  the  table,  covering  his  face  with 
his  hands  as  he  spoke : — 

"They  were  made  by  Miss  Lucy !" 

DR.  Seward's  diary — continued. 

For  a  while  sheer  anger  mastered  me ;  it  was  as  if  he  had 
during  her  Hfe  struck  Lucy  on  the  face.  I  smote  the  table 
hard  and  rose  up  as  I  said  to  him : — 

*'Dr.  Van  Helsing,  are  you  mad?"  He  raised  his  head 
and  looked  at  me,  and  somehow  the  tenderness  of  his  face 
calmed  me  at  once.  ''Would  I  were!"  he  said.  "Madness 
were  easy  to  bear  compared  with  truth  like  this.  Oh,  my 
friend,  why,  think  you,  did  I  go  so  far  round,  why  take  so 
long  to  tell  you  so  simple  a  thing?  Was  it  because  I  hate 
you  and  have  hated  you  all  my  life?  Was  it  because  I 
wished  to  give  you  pain  ?  Was  it  that  I  wanted,  now  so  late, 
revenge  for  that  time  when  you  saved  my  life,  and  from  a 
fearful  death  ?  Ah  no !" 

"Forgive  me,"  said  I.  He  went  on: — 

"My  friend,  it  was  because  I  wished  to  be  gentle  in  the 
breaking  to  you,  for  I  know  you  have  loved  that  so  sweet 
lady.  But  even  yet  I  do  not  expect  you  to  believe.  It  is  so 
hard  to  accept  at  once  any  abstract  truth,  that  we  may 
doubt  such  to  be  possible  when  we  have  always  believed 
the  'no'  of  it ;  it  is  more  hard  still  to  accept  so  sad  a  con- 
crete truth,  and  of  such  a  one  as  Miss  Lucy.  To-night  I  go 
to  prove  it.  Dare  you  come  with  me  ?" 

This  staggered  me.  A  man  does  not  like  to  prove  such  a 
truth.  Byron  excepted  from  the  category,  jealousy. 

"And  prove  the  very  truth  he  most  abhorred." 

He  saw  my  hesitation,  and  spoke : — 

"The  logic  is  simple,  no  madman's  logic  this  time,  jump- 
ing from  tussock  to  tussock  in  a  misty  bog.  If  it  be  not 
true,  then  proof  will  be  relief ;  at  worst  it  will  not  harm.  If 



it  be  true!  Ah,  there  is  the  dread;  yet  very  dread  should 
help  my  cause,  for  in  it  is  some  need  of  belief.  Come,  I  tell 
30U  what  I  propose :  first,  that  we  go  off  now  and  see  that 
child  in  the  hospital.  Dr.  Vincent,  of  the  North  Hospital, 
where  the  papers  say  the  child  is,  is  friend  of  mine,  and  I 
think  of  yours  since  you  were  in  class  at  Amsterdam.  He 
will  let  two  scientists  see  his  case,  if  he  will  not  let  two 
friends.  We  shall  tell  him  nothing,  but  only  that  we  wish 
to  learn.  And  then " 

"And  then  ?"  He  took  a  key  from  his  pocket  and  held  it 
up.  "And  then  we  spend  the  night,  you  and  I,  in  the 
churchyard  where  Lucy  lies.  This  is  the  key  that  lock  the 
tomb.  I  had  it  from  the  coffin-man  to  give  to  Arthur."  My 
heart  sank  within  me,  for  I  felt  that  there  was  some  fear- 
ful ordeal  before  us.  I  could  do  nothing,  however,  so  I 
plucked  up  what  heart  I  could  and  said  that  we  had  better 
hasten,  as  the  afternoon  was  passing.   .   .   . 

We  found  the  child  awake.  It  had  had  a  sleep  and  taken 
some  food,  and  altogether  was  going  on  well.  Dr.  Vincent 
took  the  bandage  from  its  throat,  and  showed  us  the  punc- 
tures. There  was  no  mistaking  the  similarity  to  those  which 
had  been  on  Lucy's  throat.  They  were  smaller,  and  the 
edges  looked  fresher;  that  was  all.  We  asked  Vincent  to 
what  he  attributed  them,  and  he  replied  that  it  must  have 
been  a  bite  of  some  animal,  perhaps  a  rat ;  but,  for  his  own 
part,  he  was  inclined  to  think  that  it  was  one  of  the  bats 
which  are  so  numerous  on  the  northern  heights  of  Lon- 
don. "Out  of  so  many  harmless  ones,"  he  said,  "there  may 
be  some  wild  specimen  from  the  South  of  a  more  malig- 
nant species.  Some  sailor  may  have  brought  one  home, 
and  it  managed  to  escape ;  or  even  from  the  Zoological 
Gardens  a  young  one  may  have  got  loose,  or  one  be  bred 
there  from  a  vampire.  These  things  do  occur,  you  know. 
Only  ten  days  ago  a  wolf  got  out,  and  was,  I  believe, 
traced  up  in  this  direction.  For  a  week  after,  the  children 
were  playing  nothing  but  Red  Riding  Hood  on  the  Heath 
and  in  every  alley  in  the  place  until  this  'bloof er  lady'  scare 
came  along,  since  when  it  has  been  quite  a  gala-time  with 
them.  Even  this  poor  little  mite,  when  he  woke  up  to-day, 
asked  the  nurse  if  he  might  go  away.  When  she  asked  him 

DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  215 

why  he  wanted  to  go,  he  said  he  wanted  to  play  with  the 
'bloofer  lady.'  " 

"I  hope,"  said  Van  Helsing,  "that  when  you  are  sending 
the  child  home  you  will  caution  its  parents  to  keep  strict 
watch  over  it.  These  fancies  to  stray  are  most  dangerous ; 
and  if  the  child  were  to  remain  out  another  night,  it  would 
probably  be  fatal.  But  in  any  case  I  suppose  you  will  not 
let  it  away  for  some  days?" 

"Certainly  not,  not  for  a  week  at  least :  longer  if  the 
wound  is  not  healed." 

Our  visit  to  the  hospital  took  more  time  than  we  had 
reckoned  on,  and  the  sun  had  dipped  before  we  came  out. 
When  Van  Helsing  saw  how  dark  it  was,  he  said : — 

"There  is  no  hurry.  It  is  more  late  than  I  thought.  Come, 
let  us  seek  somewhere  that  we  may  eat,  and  then  we  shall 
go  on  our  way." 

We  dined  at  "Jack  Straw's  Castle"  along  with  a  little 
crowd  of  bicyclists  and  others  who  were  genially  noisy. 
About  ten  o'clock  we  started  from  the  inn.  It  was  then  very 
dark,  and  the  scattered  lamps  made  the  darkness  greater 
when  we  were  once  outside  their  individual  radius.  The 
Professor  had  evidently  noted  the  road  we  were  to  go,  for 
he  went  on  unhesitatingly ;  but,  as  for  me,  I  was  in  quite 
a  mixup  as  to  locality.  As  we  went  further,  we  met  fewer 
and  fewer  people,  till  at  last  we  were  somewhat  surprised 
when  we  met  even  the  patrol  of  horse  police  going  their 
usual  suburban  round.  At  last  we  reached  the  wall  of  the 
churchyard,  which  we  climbed  over.  With  some  little  diffi- 
culty— for  it  was  very  dark,  and  the  whole  place  seemed  so 
strange  to  us — we  found  the  Westenra  tomb.  The  Profes- 
sor took  the  key,  opened  the  creaky  door,  and  standing 
back,  politely,  but  quite  unconsciously,  motioned  me  t  * 
precede  him.  There  was  a  delicious  irony  in  the  offer,  in 
the  courtliness  of  giving  preference  on  such  a  ghastly  oc- 
casion. My  companion  followed  me  quickly,  and  cau- 
tiously drew  the  door  to,  after  carefully  ascertaining  that 
the  lock  was  a  falling,  and  not  a  spring,  one.  In  the  latter 
case  we  should  have  been  in  a  bad  plight.  Then  he  fum- 
bled in  his  bag,  and  taking  out  a  matchbox  and  a  piece  of 
candle,  proceeded  to  make  a  light.  The  tomb  in  the  day- 

2i6  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

time,  and  when  wreathed  with  fresh  flowers,  had  looked 
grim  and  gruesome  enough ;  but  now,  some  days  after- 
wards, when  the  flowers  hung  lank  and  dead,  their  whites 
turning  to  rust  and  their  greens  to  browns;  when  the 
spider  and  the  beetle  had  resumed  their  accustomed  domi- 
nance; when  time-discoloured  stone,  and  dust-encrusted 
mortar,  and  rusty,  dank  iron,  and  tarnished  brass,  and 
clouded  silver-plating  gave  back  the  feeble  glimmer  of  a 
candle,  the  effect  was  more  miserable  and  sordid  than  could 
have  been  imagined.  It  conveyed  irresistibly  the  idea  that 
life — animal  life — was  not  the  only  thing  which  could  pass 

Van  Helsing  went  about  his  work  systematically.  Hold- 
ing his  candle  so  that  he  could  read  the  coffin  plates,  and  so 
holding  it  that  the  sperm  dropped  in  white  patches  which 
congealed  as  they  touched  the  metal,  he  made  assurance  of 
Lucy's  coffin.  Another  search  in  his  bag,  and  he  took  out  a 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  I  asked. 

"To  open  the  coffin.  You  shall  yet  be  convinced." 
Straightway  he  began  taking  out  the  screws,  and  finally 
lifted  off  the  lid,  showing  the  casing  of  lead  beneath.  The 
sight  was  almost  too  much  for  me.  It  seemed  to  be  as  much 
an  affront  to  the  dead  as  it  would  have  been  to  have 
stripped  off  her  clothing  in  her  sleep  whilst  living ;  I  actu- 
ally took  hold  of  his  hand  to  stop  him.  He  only  said :  "You 
shall  see,"  and  again  fumbling  in  his  bag,  took  out  a  tiny 
fret-saw.  Striking  the  turnscrew  through  the  lead  with  a 
swift  downward  stab,  which  made  me  wince,  he  made  a 
small  hole,  which  was,  however,  big  enough  to  admit  the 
point  of  the  saw.  I  had  expected  a  rush  of  gas  from  the 
week-old  corpse.  We  doctors,  who  have  had  to  study  our 
dangers,  have  to  become  accustomed  to  such  things,  and  I 
drew  back  towards  the  door.  But  the  Professor  never 
stopped  for  a  moment ;  he  sawed  down  a  couple  of  feet 
along  one  side  of  the  lead  coffin,  and  then  across,  and  down 
the  other  side.  Taking  the  edge  of  the  loose  flange,  he  bent 
it  back  towards  the  foot  of  the  coffin,  and  holding  up  the 
candle  into  the  aperture,  motioned  to  me  to  look. 

I  drew  near  and  looked.  The  coffin  was  empty. 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  217 

It  was  certainly  a  surprise  to  me,  and  gave  me  a  con- 
siderable shock,  but  Van  Helsing  was  unmoved.  He  was 
now  more  sure  than  ever  of  his  ground,  and  so  emboldened 
to  proceed  in  his  task.  "Are  you  satisfied  now,  friend 
John  ?"  he  asked. 

I  felt  all  the  dogged  argumentativeness  of  my  nature 
awake  within  me  as  I  answered  him : — 

"I  am  satisfied  that  Lucy's  body  is  not  in  that  coffin ;  but 
that  only  proves  one  thing." 

"And  what  is  that,  friend  John  ?" 

"That  it  is  not  there." 

"That  is  good  logic,"  he  said,  "so  far  as  it  goes.  But  how 
do  you — how  can  you — account  for  it  not  being  there  ?" 

"Perhaps  a  body-snatcher,"  I  suggested.  "Some  of  the 
undertaker's  people  may  have  stolen  it."  I  felt  that  I  was 
speaking  folly,  and  yet  it  was  the  only  real  cause  which  I 
CQuld  suggest.  The  Professor  sighed.  "Ah  well !"  he  said, 
"we  must  have  more  proof.  Come  with  me." 

He  put  on  the  cofifin-lid  again,  gathered  up  all  his  things 
and  placed  them  in  the  bag,  blew  out  the  light,  and  placed 
the  candle  also  in  the  bag.  We  opened  the  door,  and  went 
out.  Behind  us  he  closed  the  door  and  locked  it.  He  handed 
me  the  key,  saying :  "Will  you  keep  it  ?  You  had  better  be 
assured."  I  laughed — it  was  not  a  very  cheerful  laugh,  I 
am  bound  to  say — as  I  motioned  him  to  keep  it.  "A  key  is 
nothing,"  I  said ;  "there  may  be  duplicates ;  and  anyhow  it 
is  not  difficult  to  pick  a  lock  of  that  kind."  He  said  noth- 
ing, but  put  the  key  in  his  pocket.  Then  he  told  me  to 
watch  at  one  side  of  the  churchyard  whilst  he  would  watch 
at  the  other.  I  took  up  my  place  behind  a  yew-tree,  and  I 
saw  his  dark  figure  move  until  the  intervening  headstones 
and  trees  hid  it  from  my  sight. 

It  was  a  lonely  vigil.  Just  after  I  had  taken  my  place  I 
heard  a  distant  clock  strike  twelve,  and  in  time  came  one 
and  two.  I  was  chilled  and  unnerved,  and  angry  with  the 
Professor  for  taking  me  on  such  an  errand  and  with  my- 
self for  coming.  I  was  too  cold  and  too  sleepy  to  be  keenly 
observant,  and  not  sleepy  enough  to  betray  my  trust ;  so  al- 
together I  had  a  dreary,  miserable  time. 

Suddenly,  as  I  turned  round,  I  thought  I  saw  something 

2i8  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

like  a  white  streak,  moving  between  two  dark  yew-trees  at 
the  side  of  the  churchyard  farthest  from  the  tomb ;  at  the 
same  time  a  dark  mass  moved  from  the  Professor's  side  of 
the  ground,  and  hurriedly  went  towards  it.  Then  I  too 
moved;  but  I  had  to  go  round  headstones  and  railed-off 
tombs,  and  I  stumbled  over  graves.  The  sky  was  overcast, 
and  somewhere  far  off  an  early  cock  crew.  A  little  way  off, 
beyond  a  line  of  scattered  juniper-trees,  which  marked  the 
pathway  to  the  church,  a  white,  dim  figure  flitted  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  tomb.  The  tomb  itself  was  hidden  by  trees, 
and  I  could  not  see  where  the  figure  disappeared.  I  heard 
the  rustle  of  actual  movement  where  I  had  first  seen  the 
white  figure,  and  coming  over,  found  the  Professor  holding 
in  his  arms  a  tiny  child.  When  he  saw  me  he  held  it  out  to 
me,  and  said : — 

"Are  you  satisfied  now  ?" 

"No,"  I  said,  in  a  way  that  I  felt  was  aggressive. 

"Do  you  not  see  the  child  ?" 

"Yes,  it  is  a  child,  but  who  brought  it  here?  And  is  it 
wounded?"  I  asked. 

"We  shall  see,"  said  the  Professor,  and  with  one  im- 
pulse we  took  our  way  out  of  the  churchyard,  he  carrying 
the  sleeping  child. 

When  we  had  got  some  little  distance  away,  we  went 
into  a  clump  of  trees,  and  struck  a  match,  and  looked  at 
the  child's  throat.  It  was  without  a  scratch  or  scar  of  any 

"Was  I  right?"  1  asked  triumphantly. 

"We  were  just  in  time,"  said  the  Professor  thankfully. 

We  had  now  to  decide  what  we  were  to  do  with  the 
child,  and  so  consulted  about  it.  If  we  were  to  take  it  to  a 
police-station  we  should  have  to  give  some  account  of  our 
movements  during  the  night ;  at  least,  we  should  have  had 
to  make  some  statement  as  to  how  we  had  come  to  find  the 
child.  So  finally  we  decided  that  we  would  take  it  to  the 
Heath,  and  when  we  heard  a  policeman  coming,  would 
leave  it  where  he  could  not  fail  to  find  it ;  we  would  then 
seek  our  way  home  as  quickly  as  we  could.  All  fell  out  well. 
At  the  edge  of  Hampstead  Heath  we  heard  a  policeman's 
heavy  tramp,  and  laying  the  child  on  the  pathway,  we 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  219 

waited  and  watched  until  he  saw  it  as  he  flashed  his  lantern 
to  and  fro.  We  heard  his  exclamation  of  astonishment,  and 
then  we  went  awa}^  silently.  By  good  chance  we  got  a  cab 
near  the  "Spaniards,"  and  drove  to  town. 

I  cannot  sleep,  so  I  make  this  entry.  But  I  must  try  to 
get  a  few  hours'  sleep,  as  Van  Helsing  is  to  call  for  me  at 
noon.  He  insists  that  I  shall  go  with  him  on  another  expe- 

2^  September. — It  was  two  o'clock  before  we  found  a 
suitable  opportunity  for  our  attempt.  The  funeral  held  at 
noon  was  all  completed,  and  the  last  stragglers  of  the 
mourners  had  taken  themselves  lazily  away,  when,  looking 
carefully  from  behind  a  clump  of  alder-trees,  we  saw  the 
sexton  lock  the  gate  after  him.  We  knew  then  that  we  were 
safe  till  morning  did  we  desire  it ;  but  the  Professor  told 
me  that  we  should  not  want  more  than  an  hour  at  most. 
Again  I  felt  that  horrid  sense  of  the  reality  of  things,  in 
which  any  effort  of  imagination  seemed  out  of  place ;  and 
I  realised  distinctly  the  perils  of  the  law  which  we  were  in- 
curring in  our  unhallowed  work.  Besides,  I  felt  it  was  all 
so  useless.  Outrageous  as  it  was  to  open  a  leaden  coffin,  to 
see  if  a  woman  dead  nearly  a  week  were  really  dead,  it  now 
seemed  the  height  of  folly  to  open  the  tomb  again,  when 
we  knew,  from  the  evidence  of  our  own  eyesight,  that  the 
coffin  was  empty.  I  shrugged  my  shoulders,  however,  and 
rested  silent,  fof  Van  Helsing  had  a  way  of  going  on  his 
own  road,  no  matter  who  remonstrated.  He  took  the  key, 
opened  the  vault,  and  again  courteously  motioned  me  to 
precede.  The  place  was  not  so  gruesome  as  last  night,  but 
oh,  how  unutterably  mean-looking  when  the  sunshine 
streamed  in.  Van  Helsing  walked  over  to  Lucy's  coffin,  and 
I  followed.  He  bent  over  and  again  forced  back  the  leaden 
flange ;  and  then  a  shock  of  surprise  and  dismay  shot 
through  me. 

There  lay  Lucy,  seemingly  just  as  we  had  seen  her  the 
night  before  her  funeral.  She  was,  if  possible,  more  radi- 
antly beautiful  than  ever;  and  I  could  not  believe  that  she 
was  dead.  The  lips  were  red,  nay  redder  than  before ;  and 
on  the  cheeks  was  a  delicate  bloom. 

?20  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

**Is  this  a  juggle  ?"  I  said  to  him. 

"Are  you  convinced  now?"  said  the  Professor  in  re- 
sponse, and  as  he  spoke  he  put  over  his  hand,  and  in  a  way 
that  made  me  shudder,  pulled  back  the  dead  lips  and 
showed  the  white  teeth. 

"See,"  he  went  on,  "see,  they  are  even  sharper  than  be- 
fore. With  this  and  this" — and  he  touched  one  of  the  ca- 
nine teeth  and  that  below  it — "the  little  children  can  be 
bitten.  Are  you  of  belief  now,  friend  John?"  Once  more, 
argumentative  hostility  woke  within  me.  I  could  not  accept 
such  an  overwhelming  idea  as  he  suggested ;  so,  with  an  at- 
tempt to  argue  of  which  I  was  even  at  the  moment 
ashamed,  I  said : — 

"She  may  have  been  placed  here  since  last  night." 

"Indeed  ?  That  is  so,  and  by  whom  ?" 

"I  do  not  know.  Some  one  has  done  it." 

"And  yet  she  has  been  dead  one  week.  Most  peoples  in 
that  time  would  not  look  so."  I  had  no  answer  for  this,  so 
was  silent.  Van  Helsing  did  not  seem  to  notice  my  silence ; 
at  any  rate,  he  showed  neither  chagrin  nor  triumph.  He 
was  looking  intently  at  the  face  of  the  dead  woman,  rais- 
ing the  eyelids  and  looking  at  the  eyes,  and  once  more 
opening  the  lips  and  examining  the  teeth.  Then  he  turned 
to  me  and  said  : — 

"Here,  there  is  one  thing  which  is  different  from  all  re- 
corded ;  here  is  some  dual  life  that  is  not  as  the  common. 
She  was  bitten  by  the  vampire  when  she 'was  in  a  trance, 
sleep-walking — oh,  you  start ;  you  do  not  know  that,  friend 
John,  but  you  shall  know  it  all  later — and  in  trance  could 
he  best  come  to  take  more  blood.  In  trance  she  died,  and  in 
trance  she  is  Un-Dead,  too.  So  it  is  that  she  differ  from  all 
other.  Usually  when  the  Un-Dead  sleep  at  home" — as  he 
spoke  he  made  a  comprehensive  sweep  of  his  arm  to  desig- 
nate what  to  a  vampire  was  "home" — "their  face  show 
what  they  are,  but  this  so  sweet  that  was  when  she  not  Un- 
Dead  she  go  back  to  the  nothings  of  the  common  dead. 
There  is  no  malign  there,  see,  and  so  it  make  hard  that  I 
must  kill  her  in  her  sleep."  This  turned  my  blood  cold,  and 
it  began  to  dawn  upon  me  that  I  was  accepting  Van  Hel- 
sing's  theories ;  but  if  she  were  really  dead,  what  was  there 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  221 

of  terror  in  the  idea  of  killing  her?  He  looked  up  at  me, 
and  evidently  saw  the  change  in  my  face,  for  he  said  al- 
most joyously : — 

"Ah,  you  believe  now?" 

I  answered :  "Do  not  press  me  too  hard  all  at  once.  I  am 
willing  to  accept.  How  will  you  do  this  bloody  work?" 

"I  shall  cut  of¥  her  head  and  fill  her  mouth  with  garlic, 
and  I  shall  drive  a  stake  through  her  body."  It  made  me 
shudder  to  think  of  so  mutilating  the  body  of  the  woman 
whom  I  had  loved.  And  yet  the  feeling  was  not  so  strong 
as  I  had  expected.  I  was,  in  fact,  beginning  to  shudder  at 
the  presence  of  this  being,  this  Un-Dead,  as  Van  Helsing 
called  it,  and  to  loathe  it.  Is  it  possible  that  love  is  all  sub- 
jective, or  all  objective? 

I  waited  a  considerable  time  for  Van  Helsing  to  begin, 
but  he  stood  as  if  wrapped  in  thought.  Presently  he  closed 
the  catch  of  his  bag  with  a  snap,  and  said : — 

"I  have  been  thinking,  and  have  made  up  my  mind  as  to 
what  is  best.  If  I  did  simply  follow  my  inclining  I  would 
do  now,  at  this  moment,  what  is  to  be  done ;  but  there  are 
other  things  to  follow,  and  things  that  are  thousand  times 
more  difficult  in  that  them  we  do  not  know.  This  is  simple. 
She  have  yet  no  life  taken,  though  that  is  of  time ;  and  to 
act  now  would  be  to  take  danger  from  her  for  ever.  But 
then  we  may  have  to  want  Arthur,  and  how  shall  we  tell 
him  of  this?  If  you,  who  saw  the  wounds  on  Lucy's  throat, 
and  saw  the  wounds  so  similar  on  the  child's  at  the  hos- 
pital ;  if  you,  who  saw  the  coffin  empty  last  night  and  full 
to-day  with  a  woman  who  have  not  change  only  to  be  more 
rose  and  more  beautiful  in  a  whole  week,  after  she  die — ■ 
if  you  know  of  this  and  know  of  the  white  figure  last  night 
that  brought  the  child  to  the  churchyard,  and  yet  of  your 
own  senses  you  did  not  believe,  how,  then,  can  I  expect 
Arthur,  who  know  none  of  those  things,  to  believe?  He 
doubted  me  when  I  took  him  from  her  kiss  when  she  was 
dying.  I  know  he  has  forgiven  me  because  in  some  mis- 
taken idea  I  have  done  things  that  prevent  him  say  good- 
bye as  he  ought ;  and  he  may  think  tfiat  in  some  more  mis- 
taken idea  this  woman  was  buried  alive ;  and  that  in  most 
mistake  of  all  we  have  killed  her.  He  will  then  argue  back 


that  it  is  we,  mistaken  ones,  that  have  killed  her  by  our 
ideas;  and  so  he  will  be  much  unhappy  always.  Yet  he 
never  can  be  sure ;  and  that  is  the  worst  of  all.  And  he  will 
sometimes  think  that  she  he  loved  was  buried  alive,  and 
that  will  paint  his  dreams  with  horrors  of  what  she  must 
have  suffered ;  and  again,  he  will  think  that  we  may  be 
right,  and  that  his  so  beloved  was,  after  all,  an  Un-Dead. 
No !  I  told  him  once,  and  since  then  I  learn  much.  Now, 
since  I  know  it  is  all  true,  a  hundred  thousand  times 
more  do  I  know  that  he  must  pass  through  the  bit- 
ter waters  to  reach  the  sweet.  He,  poor  fellow,  must  have 
one  hour  that  will  make  the  very  face  of  heaven  grow 
black  to  him ;  then  we  can  act  for  good  all  round  and  send 
him  peace.  My  mind  is  made  up.  Let  us  go.  You  return 
home  for  to-night  to  your  asylum,  and  see  that  all  be  well. 
As  for  me,  I  shall  spend  the  night  here  in  this  church- 
yard in  my  own  way.  To-morrow  night  you  will  come  to 
me  to  the  Berkeley  Hotel  at  ten  of  the  clock.  I  shall  send 
for  Arthur  to  come  too,  and  also  that  so  fine  young  man  of 
America  that  gave  his  blood.  Later  we  shall  have  work  to 
do.  I  come  with  you  so  far  as  Piccadilly  and  there  dine, 
for  I  must  be  back  here  before  the  sun  set." 

So  we  locked  the  tomb  and  came  away,  and  got  over  the 
wall  of  the  churchyard,  which  was  not  much  of  a  task,  and 
drove  back  to  Piccadilly. 

Note  left  by  Van  Helsing  in  his  portmanteau,  Berkeley 
Hotel,  directed  to  John  Sczvard,  M.  D. 

(Not  delivered.) 

*'2y  September, 
"Friend  John, — 

"I  write  this  in  case  anything  should  happen.  I  go  alone 
to  watch  in  that  churchyard.  It  pleases  me  that  the  Un^ 
Dead,  Miss  Lucy,  shall  not  leave  to-night,  that  so  on  the 
morrow  night  she  may  be  more  eager.  Therefore  I  shall  fix 
some  things  she  like  not — garlic  and  a  crucifix — and  so 
seal  up  the  door  of  the  tomb.  She  is  young  as  Un-Dead, 
and  will  heed.  Moreover,  these  are  only  to  prevent  her 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  223 

coming  out ;  they  may  not  prevail  on  her  wanting  to  get  in ; 
for  then  the  Un-Dead  is  desperate,  and  must  find  the  line 
of  least  resistance,  whatsoever  it  may  be.  I  shall  be  at  hand 
all  the  night  from  sunset  till  after  the  sunrise,  and  if  there 
be  aught  that  may  be  learned  I  shall  learn  it.  For  Miss 
Lucy  or  from  her,  I  have  no  fear ;  but  that  other  to  whom 
is  there  that  she  is  Un-Dead,  he  have  now  the  power  to 
seek  her  tomb  and  find  shelter.  He  is  cunning,  as  I  know 
from  Mr.  Jonathan  and  from  the  way  that  all  along  he 
have  fooled  us  when  he  played  with  us  for  Miss  Lucy's 
life,  and  we  lost ;  and  in  many  ways  the  Un-Dead  are 
strong.  He  have  always  the  strength  in  his  hand  of  twenty 
men ;  even  we  four  who  gave  our  strength  to  Miss  Lucy 
it  also  is  all  to  him.  Besides,  he  can  summon  his  wolf  and 
I  know  not  what.  So  if  it  be  that  he  come  thither  on  this 
night  he  shall  find  me ;  but  none  other  shall — until  it  be 
too  late.  But  it  may  be  that  he  will  not  attempt  the  place. 
There  is  no  reason  why  he  should ;  his  hunting  ground  is 
more  full  of  game  than  the  churchyard  where  the  Un- 
Dead  woman  sleep,  and  the  one  old  man  watch. 

''Therefore  I  write  this  in  case.  .  .  .  Take  the  papers 
that  are  with  this,  the  diaries  of  Harker  and  the  rest,  and 
read  them,  and  then  find  this  great  Un-Dead,  and  cut  off 
his  head  and  burn  his  heart  or  drive  a  stake  through  it,  so 
that  the  world  may  rest  from  him. 

"If  it  be  so,  farewell. 

"Van  Helsing." 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

28  September. — It  is  wonderful  what  a  good  night's 
sleep  will  do  for  one.  Yesterday  I  was  almost  willing  to  ac- 
cept Van  Helsing's  monstrous  ideas ;  but  now  they  seem 
to  start  out  lurid  before  me  as  outrages  on  common  sense. 
I  have  no  doubt  that  he  believes  it  all.  I  wonder  if  his  mind 
can  have  become  in  any  way  unhinged.  Surely  there  must 
be  some  rational  explanation  of  all  these  mysterious  things. 
Is  it  possible  that  the  Professor  can  have  done  it  himself  ? 
He  is  so  abnormally  clever  that  if  he  went  ofT  his  head  he 
would  carry  out  his  intent  with  regard  to  some  fixed  idea 

224  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

in  a  wonderful  way.  I  am  loath  to  think  it,  and  indeed  it 
would  be  almost  as  great  a  marvel  as  the  other  to  find  that 
Van  Helsing  was  mad  ;  but  anyhow  I  shall  watch  him  care- 
fully. I  may  get  some  light  on  the  mystery. 

2g  Septetnber,  morning.  .  .  .  Last  night,  at  a  little  be- 
fore ten  o'clock,  Arthur  and  Quincey  came  into  Van  Hel- 
sing's  room ;  he  told  •  us  all  that  he  wanted  us  to  do,  but 
especially  addressing  himself  to  Arthur,  as  if  all  our  wills 
were  centred  in  his.  He  began  by  saying  that  he  hoped  we 
would  all  come  with  him  too,  "for,"  he  said,  ''there  is  a 
grave  duty  to  be  done  there.  You  were  doubtless  surprised 
at  my  letter?"  This  query  was  directly  addressed  to  Lord 

"I  was.  It  rather  upset  me  for  a  bit.  There  has  been  so 
much  trouble  around  my  house  of  late  that  I  could  do  with- 
out any  more.  I  have  been  curious,  too,  as  to  what  you 
mean.  Quincey  and  I  talked  it  over ;  but  the  more  we 
talked,  the  more  puzzled  we  got,  till  now  I  can  say  for  my- 
self that  I'm  about  up  a  tree  as  to  any  meaning  about  any- 

"Me  too,"  said  Quincey  Morris  laconically. 

"Oh,"  said  the  Professor,  "then  you  are  nearer  the  be- 
ginning, both  of  you,  than  friend  John  here,  who  has  to  go 
a  long  way  back  before  he  can  even  get  so  far  as  to  begin." 

It  was  evident  that  he  recognised  my  return  to  my  old 
doubting  frame  of  mind  without  saying  a  word.  Then, 
turning  to  the  other  two,  he  said  with  intense  gravity : — 

"I  want  your  permission  to  do  what  I  think  good  this 
night.  It  is,  I  know,  much  to  ask;  and  when  you  know 
what  it  is  I  propose  to  do  you  will  know,  and  only  then, 
how  much.  Therefore  may  I  ask  that  you  promise  me  in 
the  dark,  so  that  afterwards,  though  you  may  be  angry  with 
me  for  a  time — I  must  not  disguise  from  myself  the  pos- 
sibility that  such  may  be — you  shall  not  blame  yourselves 
for  anything." 

"That's  frank  anyhow,"  broke  in  Quincey.  "I'll  answer 
for  the  Professor.  I  don't  quite  see  his  drift,  but  I  swear 
he's  honest ;  and  that's  good  enough  for  me." 

"I  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Van  Helsing  proudly.  "I  have 
done  myself   the  honour  of   counting  you   one   trusting 

DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  225 

friend,  and  such  endorsement  is  dear  to  me."  He  held  out 
a  hand,  which  Quincey  took. 

Then  Arthur  spoke  out : — 

**Dr.  Van  Helsing,  I  don't  quite  like  to  'buy  a  pig  m  a 
poke,'  as  they  say  in  Scotland,  and  if  it  be  anything  in 
which  my  honour  as  a  gentleman  or  my  faith  as  a  Christian 
is  concerned,  I  cannot  make  such  a  promise.  If  you  can 
assure  me  that  what  you  intend  does  not  violate  either  of 
these  two,  then  I  give  my  consent  at  once ;  though  for  the 
life  of  me,  I  cannot  understand  what  you  are  driving  at." 

"I  accept  your  limitation,"  said  Van  Helsing,  ''and  all  I 
ask  of  you  is  that  if  you  feel  it  necessary  to  condemn  any 
act  of  mine,  you  will  first  consider  it  well  and  be  satisfied 
that  it  does  not  violate  your  reservations." 

"Agreed !"  said  Arthur ;  "that  is  only  fair.  And  now  that 
the  pourparlers  are  over,  may  I  ask  what  it  is  we  are  to 


"I  want  you  to  come  with  me,  and  to  come  in  secret,  to 
the  churchyard  at  Kingstead." 

Arthur's  face  fell  as  he  said  in  an  amazed  sort  of  way : — 

"Where  poor  Lucy  is  buried?"  The  Professor  bowed. 
Arthur  went  on  :  "And  when  there?" 

"To  enter  the  tomb !"  Arthur  stood  up. 

"Professor,  are  you  in  earnest ;  or  is  it  some  monstrous 
joke?  Pardon  me,  I  see  that  you  are  in  earnest."  He  sat 
down  again,  but  I  could  see  that  he  sat  firmly  and  proudly, 
as  one  who  is  on  his  dignity.  There  was  silence  until  ho 
asked  again : — 

"And  when  in  the  tomb?" 

"To  open  the  coffin." 

"This  is  too  much !"  he  said,  angrily  rising  again.  "I  am 
willing  to  be  patient  in  all  things  that  are  reasonable ;  but 

in  this — this  desecration  of  the  grave — of  one  who " 

He  fairly  choked  with  indignation.  The  Professor  looked 
pityingly  at  him. 

"If  I  could  spare  you  one  pang,  my  poor  friend,"  he 
said,  "God  knows  I  would.  But  this  night  our  feet  must 
tread  in  thorny  paths ;  or  later,  and  for  ever,  the  feet  you 
love  must  walk  in  paths  of  flame !" 

Arthur  looked  up  with  set  white  face  and  said : — 


"Take  care,  sir,  take  care!" 

"Would  it  not  be  well  to  hear  what  I  have  to  say?"  said 
Van  Helsing.  "And  then  you  will  at  least  know  the  limit 
of  my  purpose.  Shall  I  go  on  ?" 

"That's  fair  enough,"  broke  in  Morris. 

After  a  pause  Van  Helsing  went  on,  evidently  with  an 
effort : — 

"Miss  Lucy  is  dead;  is  it  not  so?  Yes!  Then  there  can 
be  no  wrong  to  her.  But  if  she  is  not  dead " 

Arthur  jumped  to  his  feet. 

"Good  God!"  he  cried.  "What  do  you  mean?  Has  there 
been  any  mistake ;  has  she  been  buried  alive  ?"  He  groaned 
in  anguish  that  not  even  hope  could  soften. 

"I  did  not  say  she  was  alive,  my  child ;  I  did  not  think 
it.  I  go  no  further  than  to  say  that  she  might  be  Un-Dead." 

"Un-Dead!  Not  alive!  What  do  you  mean?  Is  this  all  a 
nightmare,  or  what  is  it  ?" 

"There  are  mysteries  which  men  can  only  guess  at, 
which  age  by  age  they  may  solve  only  in  part.  Believe  me, 
we  are  now  on  the  verge  of  one.  But  I  have  not  done.  May 
I  cut  off  the  head  of  dead  Miss  Lucy  ?" 

"Heavens  and  earth,  no!"  cried  Arthur  in  a  storm  of 
passion.  "Not  for  the  wide  world  will  I  consent  to  any 
mutilation  of  her  dead  body.  Dr.  Van  Helsing,  you  try 
me  too  far.  What  have  I  done  to  you  that  you  should  tor- 
ture me  so?  What  did  that  poor,  sweet  girl  do  that  you 
should  want  to  cast  such  dishonour  on  her  grave  ?  Are  you 
mad  that  speak  such  things,  or  am  I  mad  to  listen  to  them  ? 
Don't  dare  to  think  more  of  such  a  desecration ;  I  shall  not 
give  my  consent  to  anything  you  do.  I  have  a  duty  to  do  in 
protecting  her  grave  from  outrage;  and,  by  God,  I  shall 

Van  Helsing  rose  up  from  where  he  had  all  the  time 
been  seated,  and  said,  gravely  and  sternly : — 

"My  Lord  Godalming,  I,  too,  have  a  duty  to  do,  a  duty 
to  others,  a  duty  to  you,  a  duty  to  the  dead ;  and,  by  God,  I 
shall  do  it!  All  I  ask  you  now  is  that  you  come  with  me, 
that  you  look  and  listen ;  and  if  when  later  I  make  the  same 
request  you  do  not  be  more  eager  for  its  fulfilment  even 
than  I  am,  then — then  I  shall  do  my  duty,  whatever  it  may 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  22J 

seem  to  me.  And  then,  to  follow  of  your  Lordship's  wishes 
I  shall  hold  myself  at  your  disposal  to  render  an  account  to 
you,  when  and  where  you  will."  His  voice  broke  a  little, 
and  he  went  on  with  a  voice  full  of  pity : — 

"But,  I  beseech  you,  do  not  go  forth  in  anger  with  me. 
In  a  long  life  of  acts  which  were  often  not  pleasant  to  do, 
and  which  sometimes  did  wring  my  heart,  I  have  never  had 
so  heavy  a  task  as  now.  Believe  me  that  if  the  time  comes 
for  you  to  change  your  mind  towards  me,  one  look  from 
you  will  wipe  away  all  this  so  sad  hour,  for  I  would  do 
what  a  man  can  to  save  you  from  sorrow.  Just  think.  For 
why  should  I  give  myself  so  much  of  labour  and  so  much 
of  sorrow  ?  I  have  come  here  from  my  own  land  to  do  what 
I  can  of  good ;  at  the  first  to  please  my  friend  John,  and 
then  to  help  a  sweet  young  lady,  whom,  too,  I  came  to  love. 
For  her — I  am  ashamed  to  say  so  much,  but  I  say  it  in 
kindness — I  gave  what  you  gave ;  the  blood  of  my  veins ;  1 
gave  it,  I,  who  was  not,  like  you,  her  lover,  but  only  her 
physician  and  her  friend.  I  gave  to  her  my  nights  and  days 
— ^before  death,  after  death;  and  if  my  death  can  do  her 
good  even  now,  when  she  is  the  dead  Un-Dead,  she  shall 
have  it  freely."  He  said  this  with  a  very  grave,  sweet  pride, 
and  Arthur  was  much  affected  by  it.  He  took  the  old  man's 
hand  and  said  in  a  broken  voice : — 

"Oh,  it  is  hard  to  think  of  it,  and  I  cannot  understand ; 
but  at  least  I  shall  go  with  you  and  wait." 


DR.  Seward's  diary — continued 

It  was  just  a  quarter  before  twelve  o'clock  when  we  got 
into  the  churchyard  over  the  low  wall.  The  night  was  dark 
with  occasional  gleams  of  moonlight  between  the  rents  of 
the  heavy  clouds  that  scudded  across  the  sky.  We  all  kepi 
somehow  close  together,  with  Van  Helsing  slightly  in  front 
as  he  led  the  way.  When  we  had  come  close  to  the  tomb  I 
looked  well  at  Arthur,  for  I  feared  that  the  proximity  to  a 
place  laden  with  so  sorrowful  a  memory  would  upset  him; 
but  he  bore  himself  well.  I  took  it  that  the  very  mystery  of 
the  proceeding  was  in  some  way  a  counteractant  to  his 
grief.  The  Professor  unlocked  the  door,  and  seeing  a  nat- 
ural hesitation  amongst  us  for  various  reasons,  solved  the 
difficulty  by  entering  first  himself.  The  rest  of  us  followed, 
and  he  closed  the  door.  He  then  lit  a  dark  lantern  and 
pointed  to  the  coffin.  Arthur  stepped  forward  hesitatingly ; 
Van  Helsing  said  to  me : — 

"You  were  with  me  yesterday.  Was  the  body  of  Miss 
Lucy  in  that  coffin  ?" 

*Tt  was."  The  Professor  turned  to  the  rest  saying : — 

"You  hear ;  and  yet  there  is  no  one  who  does  not  believe 
with  me."  He  took  his  screwdriver  and  again  took  off  the 
•id  of  the  coffin.  Arthur  looked  on,  very  pale  but  silent; 
when  the  lid  was  removed  he  stepped  forward.  He  evi- 
dently did  not  know  that  there  was  a  leaden  coffin,  or,  at 
any  rate,  had  not  thought  of  it.  When  he  saw  the  rent  in 
the  lead,  the  blood  rushed  to  his  face  for  an  instant,  but  as 
quickly  fell  away  again,  so  that  he  remained  of  a  ghastly 
whiteness ;  he  was  still  silent.  Van  Helsing  forced  back 
the  leaden  flange,  and  we  all  looked  in  and  recoiled. 

The  coffin  was  empty ! 

For  several  minutes  no  one  spoke  a  word.  The  silence 
was  broken  by  Quincey  Morris : — 


DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  229 

"Professor,  I  answered  for  you.  Your  word  is  all  I  want, 
I  wouldn't  ask  such  a  thing  ordinarily — I  wouldn't  so  dis- 
honour you  as  to  imply  a  doubt ;  but  this  is  a  mystery  that 
goes  beyond  any  honour  or  dishonour.  Is  this  your  do- 


**I  swear  to  you  by  all  that  I  hold  sacred  that  I  have  not 
removed  nor  touched  her.  What  happened  was  this :  Two 
nights  ago  my  friend  Seward  and  I  came  here — with  good 
purpose,  believe  me.  I  opened  that  coffin,  which  was  then 
sealed  up,  and  we  found  it,  as  now,  empty.  We  then  waited, 
and  saw  something  white  come  through  the  trees.  The  next 
day  we  came  here  in  day-time,  and  she  lay  there.  Did  she 
not,  friend  John  ?" 


"That  night  we  were  just  in  time.  One  more  so  small 
child  was  missing,  and  we  find  it,  thank  God,  unharmed 
amongst  the  graves.  Yesterday  I  came  here  before  sun- 
down, for  at  sundown  the  Un-Dead  can  move.  I  waited 
here  all  the  night  till  the  sun  rose,  but  I  saw  nothing.  It 
was  most  probable  that  it  was  because  I  had  laid  over  the 
clamps  of  those  doors  garlic,  which  the  Un-Dead  cannot 
bear,  and  other  things  which  they  shun.  Last  night  there 
was  no  exodus,  so  to-night  before  the  sundown  I  took 
away  my  garlic  and  other  things.  And  so  it  is  we  find  this 
coffin  empty.  But  bear  with  me.  So  far  there  is  much  that 
is  strange.  Wait  you  with  me  outside,  unseen  and  unheard, 
and  things  much  stranger  are  yet  to  be.  So" — here  he  shut 
the  dark  slide  of  his  lantern — "now  to  the  outside."  He 
opened  the  door,  and  we  filed  out,  he  coming  last  and  lock- 
ing the  door  behind  him. 

Oh !  but  it  seemed  fresh  and  pure  in  the  night  air  after 
the  terror  of  that  vault.  How  sweet  it  was  to  see  the  clouds 
race  by,  and  the  passing  gleams  of  the  moonlight  between 
the  scudding  clouds  crossing  and  passing — like  the  glad- 
ness and  sorrow  of  a  man's  life ;  how  sweet  it  was  to 
breathe  the  fresh  air,  that  had  no  taint  of  death  and  decay ; 
how  humanising  to  see  the  red  lighting  of  the  sky  beyond 
the  hill,  and  to  hear  far  away  the  muffled  roar  that  marks 
the  life  of  a  great  city.  Each  in  his  own  way  was  solemn 
and  overcome.  Arthur  was  silent,  and  was,  I  could  see* 

230  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

Striving  to  grasp  the  purpose  and  the  inner  meaning  of  the 
mystery.  I  was  myself  tolerably  patient,  and  half  inclined 
again  to  throw  aside  doubt  and  to  accept  Van  Helsing's 
conclusions.  Quincey  Morris  was  phlegmatic  in  the  way  of 
a  man  who  accepts  all  things,  and  accepts  them  in  the  spirit 
of  cool  bravery,  with  hazard  of  all  he  has  to  stake.  Not  be- 
ing able  to  smoke,  he  cut  himself  a  good-sized  plug  of  to- 
bacco and  began  to  chew.  As  to  Van  Helsing,  he  was  em- 
ployed in  a  definite  way.  First  he  took  from  his  bag  a  mass 
of  what  looked  like  thin,  wafer-like  biscuit,  which  was 
carefully  rolled  up  in  a  white  napkin;  next  he  took  out  a 
double-handful  of  some  whitish  stuff,  like  dough  or  putty. 
He  crumbled  the  wafer  up  fine  and  worked  it  into  the  mass 
between  his  hands.  This  he  then  took,  and  rolling  it  into 
thin  strips,  began  to  lay  them  into  the  crevices  between  the 
door  and  its  setting  in  the  tomb.  I  was  somewhat  puzzled 
at  this,  and  being  close,  asked  him  what  it  was  that  he  was 
doing.  Arthur  and  Quincey  drew  near  also,  as  they  too 
were  curious.  He  answered  : — 

"I  am  closing  the  tomb,  so  that  the  Un-Dead  may  not 

"And  is  that  stuff  you  have  put  there  going  to  do  it?" 
asked  Quincey.  ''Great  Scott !  Is  this  a  game  ?" 

"It  is." 

"What  is  that  which  you  are  using?"  This  time  the  ques- 
tion was  by  Arthur.  Van  Helsing  reverently  lifted  his  hat 
as  he  answered  : — 

"The  Host.  I  brought  it  from  Amsterdam.  I  have  an 
Indulgence."  It  was  an  answer  that  appalled  the  most  scep- 
tical of  us,  and  we  felt  individually  that  in  the  presence  of 
such  earnest  purpose  as  the  Professor's,  a  purpose  which 
could  thus  use  the  to  him  most  sacred  of  things,  it  was 
impossible  to  distrust.  In  respectful  silence  we  took  the 
places  assigned  to  us  close  round  tlie  tomb,  but  hidden 
from  the  sight  of  any  one  approaching.  I  pitied  the  others, 
especially  Arthur.  I  had  myself  been  apprenticed  by  ni)- 
former  visits  to  this  watching  horror,  and  yet  I,  who  had 
up  to  an  hour  ago  repudiated  the  proofs,  felt  my  heart  sink 
within  me.  Never  did  tombs  look  so  ghastly  white;  never 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  231 

did  cypress,  or  yew,  or  juniper  so  seem  the  embodiment  of 
funereal  gloom ;  never  did  tree  or  grass  wave  or  rustle  so 
ominously;  never  did  bough  creak  so  mysteriously;  and 
never  did  the  far-away  howling  of  dogs  send  such  a  woe- 
ful presage  through  the  night. 

There  was  a  long  spell  of  silence,  a  big,  aching  void,  and 
then  from  the  Professor  a  keen  "S-s-s-s!"  He  pointed; 
and  far  down  the  avenue  of  yews  we  saw  a  white  figure 
advance — a  dim  white  figure,  which  held  something  dark 
at  its  breast.  The  figure  stopped,  and  at  the  moment  a  ray 
of  moonlight  fell  upon  the  masses  of  driving  clouds  and 
showed  in  startling  prominence  a  dark-haired  woman, 
dressed  in  the  cerements  of  the  grave.  We  could  not  see 
the  face,  for  it  was  bent  down  over  what  we  saw  to  be  a 
fair-haired  child.  There  was  a  pause  and  a  sharp  little  cry, 
such  as  a  child  gives  in  sleep,  or  a  dog  as  it  lies  before  the 
fire  and  dreams.  We  were  starting  forward,  but  the  Pro- 
fessor's warning  hand,  seen  by  us  as  he  stood  behind  a 
yew-tree,  kept  us  back ;  and  then  as  we  looked  the  white 
figure  moved  forwards  again.  It  was  now  near  enough  for 
us  to  see  clearly,  and  the  moonlight  still  held.  My  own 
heart  grew  cold  as  ice,  and  I  could  hear  the  gasp  of  Arthur, 
as  we  recognised  the  features  of  Lucy  Westenra.  Lucy 
Westenra,  but  yet  how  changed.  The  sweetness  was  turned 
to  adamantine,  heartless  cruelty,  and  the  purity  to  voluptu- 
ous wantonness.  Van  Helsing  stepped  out,  and,  obedient  to 
his  gesture,  we  all  advanced  too ;  the  four  of  us  ranged  in 
a  line  before  the  door  of  the  tomb.  Van  Helsing  raised  his 
lantern  and  drew  the  slide ;  by  the  concentrated  light  that 
fell  on  Lucy's  face  we  could  see  that  the  lips  were  crimson 
with  fresh  blood,  and  that  the  stream  had  trickled  over  her 
chin  and  stained  the  purity  of  her  lawn  death-robe. 

We  shuddered  with  horror.  I  could  see  by  the  tremu- 
lous light  that  even  Van  Helsing's  iron  nerve  had  failed. 
Arthur  was  next  to  me,  and  if  I  had  not  seized  his  arm  and 
held  him  up,  he  would  have  fallen. 

When  Lucy — I  call  the  thing  that  was  before  us  Lucy 
because  it  bore  her  shape — saw  us  she  drew  back  with  an 
angry  snarl,  such  as  a  cat  gives  when  taken  unawares ;  then 

UZ2  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

her  eyes  ranged  over  us.  Lucy's  eyes  in  form  and  colour ; 
but  Lucy's  eyes  unclean  and  full  of  hell-fire,  instead  of  the 
pure,  gentle  orbs  we  knew.  At  that  moment  the  remnant 
of  my  love  passed  into  hate  and  loathing ;  had  she  then  to 
be  killed,  I  could  have  done  it  with  savage  delight.  As  she 
looked,  her  eyes  blazed  with  unholy  light,  and  the  face  be- 
came wreathed  with  a  voluptuous  smile.  Oh,  God,  how  it 
made  me  shudder  to  see  it!  With  a  careless  motion,  she 
flung  to  the  ground,  callous  as  a  devil,  the  child  that  up  to 
now  she  had  clutched  strenuously  to  her  breast,  growling 
over  it  as  a  dog  growls  over  a  bone.  The  child  gave  a  sharp 
cry,  and  lay  there  moaning.  There  was  a  cold-bloodedness 
in  the  act  which  wrung  a  groan  from  Arthur;  when  she 
advanced  to  him  with  outstretched  arms  and  a  wanton 
smile  he  fell  back  and  hid  his  face  in  his  hands. 

She  still  advanced,  however,  and  with  a  languorous, 
voluptuous  grace,  said : — 

**Come  to  me,  Arthur.  Leave  these  others  and  come  to 
me.  My  arms  are  hungry  for  you.  Come,  and  we  can  rest 
together.  Come,  my  husband,  come !" 

There  was  something  diabolically  sweet  in  her  tones — 
something  of  the  tingling  of  glass  when  struck — which 
rang  through  the  brains  even  of  us  who  heard  the  words 
addressed  to  another.  As  for  Arthur,  he  seemed  under  a 
spell ;  moving  his  hands  from  his  face,  he  opened  wide  his 
arms.  She  was  leaping  for  them,  when  Van  Helsing  sprang 
forward  and  held  between  them  his  little  golden  crucifix. 
She  recoiled  from  it,  and,  with  a  suddenly  distorted  face, 
full  of  rage,  dashed  past  him  as  if  to  enter  the  tomb. 

When  within  a  foot  or  two  of  the  door,  however,  she 
stopped,  as  if  arrested  by  some  irresistible  force.  Then  she 
turned,  and  her  face  was  shown  in  the  clear  burst  of  moon- 
light and  by  the  lamp,  which  had  now  no  quiver  from  Van 
Helsing's  iron  nerves.  Never  did  I  see  such  baffled  malice 
on  a  face ;  and  never,  I  trust,  shall  such  ever  be  seen  again 
by  mortal  eyes.  The  beautiful  colour  became  livid,  the  eyes 
seemed  to  throw  out  sparks  of  hell-fire,  the  brows  were 
wrinkled  as  though  the  folds  of  the  flesh  were  the  coils  of 
Medusa's  snakes,  and  the  lovely,  blood-stained  mouth 
grew  to  an  open  square,  as  in  the  passion  masks  of  the 

DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  23^ 

Greeks  and  Japanese.  If  ever  a  face  meant  death — if  looks 
could  kill — we  saw  it  at  that  moment. 

And  so  for  full  half  a  minute,  which  seemed  an  eternity, 
she  remained  between  the  lifted  crucifix  and  the  sacred 
closing-  of  her  means  of  entry.  Van  Helsing  broke  the  si- 
lence by  asking  Arthur : — 

"Answer  me,  oh  my  friend!  Am  I  to  proceed  in  my 

Arthur  threw  himself  on  his  knees,  and  hid  his  face  in 
his  hands,  as  he  answered : — 

"Do  as  you  will,  friend ;  do  as  you  will.  There  can  be  no 
horror  like  this  ever  any  more ;"  and  he  groaned  in  spirit. 
Quincey  and  I  simultaneously  moved  towards  him,  and 
took  his  arms.  We  could  hear  the  click  of  the  closing  lan- 
tern as  Van  Helsing  held  it  down;  coming  close  to  the 
tomb,  he  began  to  remove  from  the  chinks  some  of  the 
sacred  emblem  which  he  had  placed  there.  We  all  looked 
on  in  horrified  amazement  as  we  saw,  when  he  stood  back, 
the  woman,  with  a  corporeal  body  as  real  at  that  moment 
as  our  own,  pass  in  through  the  interstice  where  scarce  a 
knife-blade  could  have  gone.  We  all  felt  a  glad  sense  of 
relief  when  we  saw  the  Professor  calmly  restoring  the 
strings  of  putty  to  the  edges  of  the  door. 

When  this  was  done,  he  lifted  the  child  and  said : 

"Come  now,  my  friends ;  we  can  do  no  more  till  to- 
morrow. There  is  a  funeral  at  noon,  so  here  we  shall  all 
come  before  long  after  that.  The  friends  of  the  dead  will 
all  be  gone  by  two,  and  when  the  sexton  lock  the  gate  we 
shall  remain.  Then  there  is  more  to  do ;  but  not  like  this  of 
to-night.  As  for  this  little  one,  he  is  not  much  harm,  and 
by  to-morrow  night  he  shall  be  well.  We  shall  leave  him 
where  the  police  will  find  him,  as  on  the  other  night ;  and 
then  to  home."  Coming  close  to  Arthur,  he  said : — 

"My  friend  Arthur,  you  have  had  a  sore  trial ;  but  after, 
when  you  look  back,  you  will  see  how  it  was  necessary.  You 
are  now  in  the  bitter  waters,  my  child.  By  this  time  to- 
morrow you  will,  please  God,  have  passed  them,  and  have 
drunk  of  the  sweet  waters ;  so  do  not  mourn  overmuch. 
Till  then  I  shall  not  ask  you  to  forgive  me." 

Arthur  and  Quincey  came  home  with  me,  and  we  tried 

234  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

to  cheer  each  other  on  the  way.  We  had  left  the  child  in 
safety,  and  were  tired ;  so  we  all  slept  with  more  or  less 
reality  of  sleep. 

2g  September,  night. — A  little  before  twelve  o'clock  we 
three — Arthur,  Quincey  Morris,  and  myself — called  for 
the  Professor.  It  was  odd  to  notice  that  by  common  con- 
sent we  had  all  put  on  black  clothes.  Of  course,  Arthur 
wore  black,  for  he  was  in  deep  mourning,  but  the  rest  of 
us  wore  it  by  instinct.  We  got  to  the  churchyard  by  half- 
past  one,  and  strolled  about,  keeping  out  of  official  obser- 
vation, so  that  when  the  gravediggers  had  completed  their 
task  and  the  sexton  under  the  belief  that  every  one  had 
gone,  had  locked  the  gate,  we  had  the  place  all  to  ourselves. 
Van  Helsing,  instead  of  his  little  black  bag,  had  with  him 
a  long  leather  one,  something  like  a  cricketing  bag ;  it  was 
manifestly  of  fair  weight. 

When  we  were  alone  and  had  heard  the  last  of  the  foot- 
steps die  out  up  the  road,  we  silently,  and  as  if  by  ordered 
intention,  followed  the  Professor  to  the  tomb.  He  unlocked 
the  door,  and  we  entered,  closing  it  behind  us.  Then  he 
took  from  his  bag  the  lantern,  which  he  lit,  and  also  two 
wax  candles,  which,  when  lighted,  he  stuck,  by  melting 
their  own  ends,  on  other  coffins,  so  that  they  might  give 
light  sufficient  to  work  by.  When  he  again  lifted  the  lid 
off  Lucy's  coffin  we  all  looked — Arthur  trembling  like  an 
aspen — ^and  saw  that  the  body  lay  there  in  all  its  death- 
beauty.  But  there  was  no  love  in  my  own  heart,  nothing 
but  loathing  for  the  foul  Thing  which  had  taken  Lucy's 
shape  without  her  soul.  I  could  see  even  Arthur's  face 
grow  hard  as  he  looked.  Presently  he  said  to  Van  Hel- 

"Is  this  really  Lucy's  body,  or  only  a  demon  in  her 
shape  ?" 

"It  is  her  body,  and  yet  not  it.  But  wait  a  while,  and  you 
shall  see  her  as  she  was,  and  is." 

She  seemed  like  a  nightmare  of  Lucy  as  she  lay  there; 
the  pointed  teeth,  the  bloodstained,  voluptuous  mouth — 
which  it  made  one  shudder  to  see — ^the  whole  carnal  and 
unspiritual  appearance,  seeming  like  a  devilish  mockery  of 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  235 

Lucy's  sweet  purity.  Van  Helsing,  with  his  usual  methodi- 
calness,  began  taking  the  various  contents  from  his  bag 
and  placing  them  ready  for  use.  First  he  took  out  a  solder- 
ing iron  and  some  plumbing  solder,  and  then  a  small  oil- 
lamp,  which  gave  out,  when  lit  in  a  corner  of  the  tomb,  gas 
which  burned  at  fierce  heat  with  a  blue  flame;  then  his 
operating  knives,  which  he  placed  to  hand  ;  and  last  a  round 
wooden  stake,  some  two  and  a  half  or  three  inches  thick 
and  about  three  feet  long.  One  end  of  it  was  hardened  by 
charring  in  the  fire,  and  was  sharpened  to  a  fine  point. 
With  this  stake  came  a  heavy  hammer,  such  as  in  house- 
holds is  used  in  the  coal-cellar  for  breaking  the  lumps.  To 
me,  a  doctor's  preparations  for  work  of  any  kind  are  stim- 
ulating and  bracing,  but  the  effect  of  these  things  on  both 
Arthur  and  Quincey  was  to  cause  them  a  sort  of  conster- 
nation. They  both,  however,  kept  their  courage,  and  re- 
mained silent  and  quiet. 

When  all  was  ready,  Van  Helsing  said : — 
''Before  we  do  anything,  let  me  tell  you  this ;  it  is  out  of 
the  lore  and  experience  of  the  ancients  and  of  all  those 
who  have  studied  the  powers  of  the  Un-Dead.  When  they 
become  such,  there  comes  with  the  change  the  curse  of  im- 
mortality; they  cannot  die,  but  must  go  on  age  after  age 
adding  new  victims  and  multiplying  the  evils  of  the  world ; 
for  all  that  die  from  the  preying  of  the  Un-Dead  becomes 
themselves  Un-Dead,  and  prey  on  their  kind.  And  so  the 
circle  goes  on  ever  widening,  like  as  the  ripples  from  a 
stone  thrown  in  the  water.  Friend  Arthur,  if  you  had  met 
that  kiss  which  you  know  of  before  poor  Lucy  die ;  or 
again,  last  night  when  you  open  your  arms  to  her,  you 
would  in  time,  when  you  had  died,  have  become  nosferatu, 
as  they  call  it  in  Eastern  Europe,  and  would  all  time  make 
more  of  those  Un-Deads  that  so  have  fill  us  with  horror. 
The  career  of  this  so  unhappy  dear  lady  is  but  just  begun. 
Those  children  whose  blood  she  suck  are  not  as  yet  so 
much  the  worse ;  but  if  she  live  on,  Un-Dead,  more  and 
more  they  lose  their  blood  and  by  her  power  over  them 
they  come  to  her ;  and  so  she  draw  their  blood  with  that  so 
wicked  mouth.  But  if  she  die  in  truth,  then  all  cease;  the 
tiny  wounds  of  the  throats  disappear,  and  they  go  back  to 

236  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

their  plays  unknowing  ever  of  what  has  been.  But  of  the 
most  blessed  of  all,  when  this  now  Un-Dead  be  made  to 
rest  as  true  dead,  then  the  soul  of  the  poor  lady  whom  we 
love  shall  again  be  free.  Instead  of  working  wickedness  by 
night  and  growing  more  debased  in  the  assimilating  of  it 
by  day,  she  shall  take  her  place  with  the  other  Angels.  So 
that,  my  friend,  it  will  be  a  blessed  hand  for  her  that  shall 
strike  the  blow  that  sets  her  free.  To  this  I  am  willing ;  but 
is  there  none  amongst  us  who  has  a  better  right?  Will  it 
be  no  joy.  to  think  of  hereafter  in  the  silence  of  the  night 
when  sleep  is  not:  'It  was  my  hand  that  sent  her  to  the 
stars ;  it  was  the  hand  of  him  that  loved  her  best ;  the  hand 
that  of  all  she  would  herself  have  chosen,  had  it  been  to 
her  to  choose  ?'  Tell  me  if  there  be  such  a  one  amongst  us  ?" 

We  all  looked  at  Arthur.  He  saw,  too,  what  we  all  did, 
the  infinite  kindness  which  suggested  that  his  should  be  the 
hand  which  would  restore  Lucy  to  us  as  a  holy,  and  not  an 
unholy,  memory ;  he  stepped  forward  and  said  bravely, 
though  his  hand  trembled,  and  his  face  was  as  pale  as 
snow : — 

"My  true  friend,  from  the  bottom  of  my  broken  heart  I 
thank  you.  Tell  me  what  I  am  to  do,  and  I  shall  not  fal- 
ter !"  Van  Helsing  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  said  : — 

"Brave  lad!  A  moment's  courage,  and  it  is  done.  This 
stake  must  be  driven  through  her.  It  will  be  a  fearful 
ordeal — ^be  not  deceived  in  that — but  it  will  be  only  a  short 
time,  and  you  will  then  rejoice  more  than  your  pain  was 
great ;  from  this  grim  tomb  you  will  emerge  as  though  you 
tread  on  air.  But  you  must  not  falter  when  once  you  have 
begun.  Only  think  that  we,  your  true  friends,  are  round 
you,  and  that  we  pray  for  you  all  the  time." 

"Go  on,"  said  Arthur  hoarsely.  "Tell  me  what  I  am  to 

"Take  this  stake  in  your  left  hand,  ready  to  place  the 
point  over  the  heart,  and  the  hammer  in  your  right.  Then 
when  we  begin  our  prayer  for  the  dead — I  shall  read  him, 
I  have  here  the  book,  and  the  others  shall  follow — strike  in 
God's  name,  that  so  all  may  be  well  with  the  dead  that  we 
love  and  that  the  Un-Dead  pass  away." 

Arthur  took  the  stake  and  the  hammer,  and  when  once 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  237 

his  mind  was  set  on  action  his  hands  never  trembled  nor 
even  quivered.  Van  Helsing  opened  his  missal  and  began 
to  read,  and  Quincey  and  I  followed  as  well  as  we  could. 
Arthur  placed  the  point  over  the  heart,  and  as  I  looked  I 
could  see  its  dint  in  the  white  flesh.  Then  he  struck  with 
all  his  might. 

The  Thing  in  the  coffin  writhed ;  and  a  hideous,  blood- 
curdling screech  came  from  the  opened  red  lips.  The  body 
shook  and  quivered  and  twisted  in  wild  contortions ;  the 
sharp  white  teeth  champed  together  till  the  lips  were  cut, 
and  the  mouth  was  smeared  with  a  crimson  foam.  But 
Arthur  never  faltered.  He  looked  like  a  figure  of  Thor  as 
his  untrembling  arm  rose  and  fell,  driving  deeper  and 
deeper  the  mercy-bearing  stake,  whilst  the  blood  from  th^ 
pierced  heart  welled  and  spurted  up  around  it.  His  face 
was  set,  and  high  duty  seemed  to  shine  through  it ;  the 
sight  of  it  gave  us  courage  so  that  our  voices  seemed  to 
ring  through  the  little  vault. 

And  then  the  writhing  and  quivering  of  the  body  be- 
came less,  and  the  teeth  seemed  to  champ,  and  the  face 
to  quiver.  Finally  it  lay  still.  The  terrible  task  was  over. 

The  hammer  fell  from  Arthur's  hand.  He  reeled  and 
would  have  fallen  had  we  not  caught  him.  The  great  drops 
of  sweat  sprang  from  his  forehead,  and  his  breath  came  in 
broken  gasps.  It  had  indeed  been  an  awful  strain  on  him ; 
and  had  he  not  been  forced  to  his  task  by  more  than  hu- 
man considerations  he  could  never  have  gone  through  with 
it.  For  a  few  minutes  we  were  so  taken  up  with  him  that 
we  did  not  look  towards  the  coffin.  When  we  did,  however, 
a  murmur  of  startled  surprise  ran  from  one  to  the  other 
of  us.  We  gazed  so  eagerly  that  Arthur  rose,  for  he  had 
been  seated  on  the  ground,  and  came  and  looked  too ;  and 
then  a  glad,  strange  light  broke  over  his  face  and  dispelled 
altogether  the  gloom  of  horror  that  lay  upon  it. 

There,  in  the  coffin  lay  no  longer  the  foul  Thing  that  we 
had  so  dreaded  and  grown  to  hate  that  the  work  of  her 
destruction  was  yielded  as  a  privilege  to  the  one  best  en- 
titled to  it,  but  Lucy  as  we  had  seen  her  in  her  life,  with 
her  face  of  unequalled  sweetness  and  purity.  True  that 
there  were  there,  as  we  had  seen  them  in  life,  the  traces 


of  care  and  pain  and  waste ;  but  these  were  all  dear  to  us, 
for  they  marked  her  truth  to  what  we  knew.  One  and  all 
we  felt  that  the  holy  calm  that  lay  like  sunshine  over  the 
wasted  face  and  form  was  only  an  earthly  token  and  sym- 
bol of  the  calm  that  was  to  reign  for  ever. 

Van  Helsing  came  and  laid  his  hand  on  Arthur's  shoul- 
der, and  said  to  him : — 

"And  now,  Arthur  my  friend,  dear  lad,  am  I  not  for- 
given ?" 

The  reaction  of  the  terrible  strain  came  as  he  took  the 
old  man's  hand  in  his,  and  raising  it  to  his  lips,  pressed  it, 
and  said : — 

** Forgiven!  God  bless  you  that  you  have  given  my  dear 
one  her  soul  again,  and  me  peace."  He  put  his  hands  on  the 
Professor's  shoulder,  and  laying  his  head  on  his  breast, 
cried  for  a  while  silently,  whilst  we  stood  unmoving.  When 
he  raised  his  head  Van  Helsing  said  to  him: — 

"And  now,  my  child,  you  may  kiss  her.  Kiss  her  dead 
lips  if  you  will,  as  she  would  have  you  to,  if  for  her  to 
choose.  For  she  is  not  a  grinning  devil  now — not  any  more 
a  foul  Thing  for  all  eternity.  No  longer  she  is  the  devil's 
Un-Dead.  She  is  God's  true  dead,  whose  soul  is  with 

Arthur  bent  and  kissed  her,  and  then  we  sent  him  and 
Quincey  out  of  the  tomb;  the  Professor  and  I  sawed  the 
top  off  the  stake,  leaving  the  point  of  it  in  the  body.  Then 
we  cut  off  the  head  and  filled  the  mouth  with  garlic.  We 
soldered  up  the  leaden  coffin,  screwed  on  the  coffin-lid,  and 
gathering  up  our  belongings,  came  away.  When  the  Pro- 
fessor locked  the  door  he  gave  the  key  to  Arthur. 

Outside  the  air  was  sweet,  the  sun  shone,  and  the  birds 
sang,  and  it  seemed  as  if  all  nature  were  tuned  to  a  differ- 
ent pitch.  There  was  gladness  and  mirth  and  peace  every- 
where, for  we  were  at  rest  ourselves  on  one  account,  and 
we  were  glad,  though  it  was  with  a  tempered  joy. 

Before  we  moved  away  Van  Helsing  said : — 

"Now,  my  friends,  one  step  of  our  work  is  done,  one  the 
most  harrowing  to  ourselves.  But  there  remains  a  greater 
task:  to  find  out  the  author  of  all  this  our  sorrow  and  to 
stamp  him  out.  I  have  clues  which  we  can  follow ;  but  it  is 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  239 

a  long  task,  and  a  difficult,  and  there  is  danger  in  it,  and 
pain.  Shall  you  not  all  help  me?  We  have  learned  to  be- 
lieve, all  of  us — is  it  not  so?  And  since  so,  do  we  not  see 
our  duty  ?  Yes !  And  do  we  not  promise  to  go  on  to  the  bit- 
ter end  ?" 

Each  in  turn,  we  took  his  hand,  and  the  promise  was 
made.  Then  said  the  Professor  as  we  moved  off : — 

*'Two  nights  hence  you  shall  meet  with  me  and  dine  to- 
gether at  seven  of  the  clock  with  friend  John.  I  shall  en- 
treat two  others,  two  that  you  know  not  as  yet ;  and  I  shall 
be  ready  to  all  our  work  show  and  our  plans  unfold.  Friend 
John,  you  come  with  me  home,  for  I  have  much  to  consult 
about,  and  you  can  help  me.  To-night  I  leave  for  Amster- 
dam, but  shall  return  to-morrow  night.  And  then  begins 
our  great  quest.  But  first  I  shall  have  much  to  say,  so  that 
you  may  know  what  is  to  do  and  to  dread.  Then  our  prom- 
ise shall  be  made  to  each  other  anew ;  for  there  is  a  terri- 
ble task  before  us,  and  once  our  feet  are  on  the  plough- 
share we  must  not  draw  back." 

DR.  Seward's  diary — continued 

When  we  arrived  at  the  Berkeley  Hotel,  Van  Helsing 
found  a  telegram  waiting  for  him : — 

"Am  coming  up  by  train.  Jonathan  at  Whitby.  Impor- 
tant news. — MiNA  Harker." 

The  Professor  was  delighted.  *'Ah,  that  wonderful 
Madam  Mina,"  he  said,  ''pearl  among  women !  She  arrive, 
but  I  cannot  stay.  She  must  go  to  your  house,  friend  John. 
You  must  meet  her  at  the  station.  Telegraph  her  en  route, 
so  that  she  may  be  prepared." 

When  the  wire  was  despatched  he  had  a  cup  of  tea ; 
over  it  he  told  me  of  a  diary  kept  by  Jonathan  Harker 
when  abroad,  and  gave  me  a  typewritten  copy  of  it,  as  also 
of  Mrs.  Harker's  diary  at  Whitby.  *'Take  these,"  he  said, 
"and  study  them  well.  When  I  have  returned  you  will  be 
master  of  all  the  facts,  and  we  can  then  better  enter  on  our 
inquisition.  Keep  them  safe,  for  there  is  in  them  much  of 
treasure.  You  will  need  all  your  faith,  even  you  who  have 
had  such  an  experience  as  that  of  to-day.  What  is  here 
told,"  he  laid  his  hand  heavily  and  gravely  on  the  packet  of 
papers  as  he  spoke,  "may  be  the  beginning  of  the  end  to 
you  and  me  and  many  another ;  or  it  may  sound  the  knell 
of  the  Un-Dead  who  walk  the  earth.  Read  all,  I  pray  you, 
with  the  open  mind ;  and  if  you  can  add  in  any  way  to  the 
story  here  told  do  so,  for  it  is  all-important.  You  have  kept 
diary  of  all  these  so  strange  things ;  is  it  not  so  ?  Yes !  Then 
we  shall  go  through  all  these  together  when  we  meet."  He 
then  made  ready  for  his  departure,  and  shortly  after  drove 
off  to  Liverpool  Street.  I  took  my  way  to  Paddington, 


DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  241 

where  I  arrived  about  fifteen  minutes  before  the  train  came 

The  crowd  melted  away,  after  the  bustling  fashion  com- 
mon to  arrival  platforms ;  and  I  was  beginning  to  feel  un- 
easy, lest  I  might  miss  my  guest,  when  a  sweet-faced, 
dainty-looking  girl  stepped  up  to  me,  and,  after  a  quick 
glance,  said :  "Dr.  Seward,  is  it  not  ?" 

"And  you  are  Mrs.  Harker !"  I  answered  at  once ; 
whereupon  she  held  out  her  hand. 

"I  knew  you  from  the  description  of  poor  dear  Lucy; 
but "  She  stopped  suddenly,  and  a  quick  blush  over- 
spread her  face. 

The  blush  that  rose  to  my  own  cheeks  somehow  set  us 
both  at  ease,  for  it  was  a  tacit  answer  to  her  own.  I  got 
her  luggage,  which  included  a  typewriter,  and  we  took  the 
Underground  to  Fenchurch  Street,  after  I  had  sent  a  wire 
to  my  housekeeper  to  have  a  sitting-room  and  bedrooiit 
prepared  at  once  for  Mrs.  Harker. 

In  due  time  we  arrived.  She  knew,  of  course,  that  th(- 
place  was  a  lunatic  asylum,  but  I  could  see  that  she  was 
unable  to  repress  a  shudder  when  we  entered. 

She  told  me  that,  if  she  might,  she  would  come  pres- 
ently to  my  study,  as  she  had  miuch  to  say.  So  here  I  am 
finishing  my  entry  in  my  phonograph  diary  whilst  I  await 
her.  As  yet  I  have  not  had  the  chance  of  looking  at  the 
papers  which  Van  Helsing  left  with  me,  though  they  lie 
open  before  me.  I  must  get  her  interested  in  something, 
so  that  I  may  have  an  opportunity  of  reading  them.  She 
does  not  know  how  precious  time  is,  or  what  a  task  we 
have  in  hand.  I  must  be  careful  not  to  frighten  her.  Here 
she  is! 

Mina  Marker's  Journal. 

2g  September. — After  I  had  tidied  myself,  I  went  down 
to  Dr.  Seward's  study.  At  the  door  I  paused  a  moment,  for 
I  thought  I  heard  him  talking  with  some  one.  As,  how- 
ever, he  had  pressed  me  to  be  quick,  I  knocked  at  the  door, 
and  on  his  calling  out,  "Come  in,"  I  entered. 

To  my  intense  surprise,  there  was  no  one  with  him.  He 

242  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

was  quite  alone,  and  on  the  table  opposite  him  was  what  I 
knew  at  once  from  the  description  to  be  a  phonograph.  I 
had  never  seen  one,  and  was  much  interested. 

"I  hope  I  did  not  keep  you  waiting,"  I  said ;  ''but 
I  stayed  at  the  door  as  I  heard  you  talking,  and  thought 
there  was  some  one  with  you." 

"Oh,"  he  replied  with  a  smile,  "I  was  only  entering  my 

"Your  diary?"  I  asked  him  in  surprise. 

"Yes,"  he  answered.  "I  keep  it  in  this."  As  he  spoke  he 
laid  his  hand  on  the  phonograph.  I  felt  quite  excited  over 
it,  and  blurted  out : — 

"Why,  this  beats  even  shorthand!  May  I  hear  it  say 
something  ?" 

"Certainly,"  he  replied  with  alacrity,  and  stood  up  to  put 
it  in  train  for  speaking.  Then  he  paused,  and  a  troubled 
look  overspread  his  face. 

"The  fact  is,"  he  began  awkwardly,  "I  only  keep  my 
diary  in  it;  and  as  it  is  entirely — almost  entirely — about 

my  cases,  it  may  be  awkward — that  is,  I  mean "  He 

stopped,  and  I  tried  to  help  him  out  of  his  embarrass- 
ment : — 

"You  helped  to  attend  dear  Lucy  at  the  end.  Let  me 
hear  how  she  died ;  for  all  that  I  know  of  her,  I  shall  be 
very  grateful.  She  was  very,  very  dear  to  me." 

To  my  surprise,  he  answered,  with  a  horrorstruck  look 
in  his  face : — 

"Tell  you  of  her  death  ?  Not  for  the  wide  world !" 

"Why  not?"  I  asked,  for  some  grave,  terrible  feeling 
was  coming  over  me.  Again  he  paused,  and  I  could  see  that 
he  was  trying  to  invent  an  excuse.  At  length  he  stammered 
out: — 

"You  see,  I  do  not  know  how  to  pick  out  any  particular 
part  of  the  diary."  Even  while  he  was  speaking  an  idea 
dawned  upon  him,  and  he  said  with  unconscious  simplicity, 
in  a  different  voice,  and  with  the  naivete  of  a  child  :  "That's 
quite  true,  upon  my  honour.  Honest  Indian !"  I  could  not 
but  smile,  at  which  he  grimaced.  "I  gave  myself  away  that 
time!"  he  said.  "But  do  you  know  that,  although  I  have 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  24.^ 

kept  the  diary  for  months  past,  it  never  once  struck  me 
how  I  was  going  to  find  any  particular  part  of  it  in  case 
I  wanted  to  look  it  up?"  By  this  time  my  mind  was  made 
up  that  the  diary  of  a  doctor  who  attended  Lucy  might 
have  something  to  add  to  the  sum  of  our  knowledge  of 
that  terrible  Being,  and  I  said  boldly : — 

"Then,  Dr.  Seward,  you  had  better  let  me  copy  it  out 
for  you  on  my  typewriter."  He  grew  to  a  positively  deathly 
pallor  as  he  said  : — 

"No !  no !  no !  For  all  the  world,  I  wouldn't  let  you  knov^" 
that  terrible  story !" 

Then  it  was  terrible ;  my  intuition  was  right !  For  a  mo- 
ment I  thought,  and  as  my  eyes  ranged  the  room,  uncon- 
sciously looking  for  something  or  some  opportunity  to  aid 
me,  they  lit  on  a  great  batch  of  typewriting  on  the  table. 
His  eyes  caught  the  look  in  mine,  and,  without  his  think- 
ing, followed  their  direction.  As  they  saw  the  parcel  he 
r>^alised  my  meaning. 

"You  do  not  know  me,"  I  said.  "When  you  have  read 
those  papers — my  own  diary  and  my  husband's  also,  which 
I  have  typed — you  will  know  me  better.  I  have  not  faltered 
in  giving  every  thought  of  my  own  heart  in  this  cause ; 
but,  of  course,  you  do  not  know  me — ^yet ;  and  I  must  not 
expect  you  to  trust  me  so  far." 

He  is  certainly  a  man  of  noble  nature;  poor  dear  Luc> 
was  right  about  him.  He  stood  up  and  opened  a  large 
drawer,  in  which  were  arranged  in  order  a  number  of  hol- 
low cylinders  of  metal  covered  with  dark  wax,  and  said : — 

"You  are  quite  right.  I  did  not  trust  you  because  I  did 
not  know  you.  But  I  know  you  now ;  and  let  me  say  that  I 
should  have  known  you  long  ago.  I  know  that  Lucy  told 
you  of  me ;  she  told  me  of  you  too.  May  I  make  the  only 
atonement  in  my  power  ?  Take  the  cylinders  and  hear  them 
— the  first  half-dozen  of  them  are  personal  to  me,  and  they 
will  not  horrify  you ;  then  you  will  know  me  better.  Dinner 
will  by  then  be  ready.  In  the  meantime  I  shall  read  ovei 
some  of  these  documents,  and  shall  be  better  able  to  under- 
stand certain  things."  He  carried  the  phonograph  himself 
up  to  my  sitting-room  and  adjusted  it  for  me.  Now  I  shall 


learn  something  pleasant,  I  am  sure ;  for  it  will  tell  me  the 
other  side  of  a  true  love  episode  of  which  I  know  one  side 
already.  .  .  . 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

2Q  September. — I  was  so  absorbed  in  that  wonderful 
diary  of  Jonathan  Harker  and  that  other  of  his  wife  that  I 
let  time  run  on  without  thinking.  Mrs.  Harker  was  not 
down  when  the  maid  came  running  to  announce  dinner,  so 
I  said :  *'She  is  possibly  tired ;  let  dinner  wait  an  hour," 
and  I  went  on  with  my  work.  I  had  just  finished  Mrs.  Ilar- 
ker's  diary,  when  she  came  in.  She  looked  sweetly  pretty, 
but  very  sad,  and  her  eyes  were  flushed  with  crying.  This 
somehow  moved  me  much.  Of  late  I  have  had  cause  for 
tears,  God  knows !  but  the  relief  of  them  was  denied  me ; 
and  now  the  sight  of  those  sweet  eyes,  brightened  with  re- 
cent tears,  went  straight  to  my  heart.  Sol  said  as  gently  as 
I  could : — 

'T  greatly  fear  I  have  distressed  you." 

"Oh,  no,  not  distressed  me,"  she  replied,  "but  I  have 
been  more  touched  than  I  can  say  by  your  grief.  That  is  a 
wonderful  machine,  but  it  is  cruelly  true.  It  told  me,  in  its 
very  tones,  the  anguish  of  your  heart.  It  was  like  a  soul 
crying  out  to  Almighty  God.  No  one  must  hear  them 
spoken  ever  again !  See,  I  have  tried  to  be  useful.  I  have 
copied  out  the  words  on  my  typewriter,  and  none  other 
need  now  hear  your  heart  beat,  as  I  did." 

"No  one  need  ever  know,  shall  ever  know,"  I  said  in  a 
low  voice.  She  laid  her  hand  on  mine  and  said  very 
gravely : — 

"Ah,  but  they  must !" 

"Must!  But  why?"  I  asked. 

"Because  it  is  a  part  of  the  terrible  story,  a  part  of  poor 
dear  Lucy's  death  and  all  that  led  to  it;  because  in  the 
struggle  which  we  have  before  us  to  rid  the  earth  of  this 
terrible  monster  we  must  have  all  the  knowledge  and  all 
the  help  which  we  can  get.  I  think  that  the  cylinders  which 
you  gave  me  contained  more  than  you  intended  me  to 
know ;  but  I  can  see  that  there  are  in  your  record  many 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  245 

lights  to  this  dark  mystery.  You  will  lei  me  help,  will  you 
not  ?  I  know  all  up  to  a  certain  point ;  and  I  see  already, 
though  your  diary  only  took  me  to  7  September,  how  poor 
Lucy  was  beset,  and  how  her  terrible  doom  was  beinj 
wrought  out.  Jonathan  and  I  have  been  working  day  and 
night  since  Professor  Van  Helsing  saw  us.  He  is  gone  to 
Whitby  to  get  more  information,  and  he  will  be  here  to- 
morrow to  help  us.  We  need  have  no  secrets  amongst  us ; 
working  together  and  with  absolute  trust,  we  can  surely  be 
stronger  than  if  some  of  us  were  in  the  dark."  She  looked 
at  me  so  appealingly,  and  at  the  same  time  manifested  such 
courage  and  resolution  in  her  bearing,  that  I  gave  in  at 
once  to  her  wishes.  *'You  shall,"  I  said,  "do  as  you  like  in 
the  matter.  God  forgive  me  if  I  do  wrong!  There  are  ter- 
rible things  yet  to  learn  of  ;  but  if  you  have  so  far  travelled 
on  the  road  to  poor  Lucy's  death,  you  will  not  be  content, 
I  know,  to  remain  in  the  dark.  Nay,  the  end — the  very  end 
— may  give  you  a  gleam  of  peace.  Come,  there  is  dinner. 
We  must  keep  one  another  strong  for  what  is  before  us ; 
we  have  a  cruel  and  dreadful  task.  When  you  have  eaten 
you  shall  learn  the  rest,  and  I  shall  answer  any  questions 
you  ask — if  there  be  anything  which  you  do  not  under- 
stand, though  it  was  apparent  to  us  who  were  present." 

Mina  Marker  s  Journal. 

2g  September. — After  dinner  I  came  with  Dr.  Seward  to 
his  study.  He  brought  back  the  phonograph  from  my  room, 
and  I  took  my  typewriter.  He  placed  me  in  a  comfortable 
chair,  and  arranged  the  phonograph  so  that  I  could  touch 
it  without  getting  up,  and  showed  me  how  to  stop  it  in 
case  I  should  want  to  pause.  Then  he  very  thoughtfully 
took  a  chair,  with  his  back  to  me,  so  that  I  might  be  as  free 
as  possible,  and  began  to  read.  I  put  the  forked  metal  to 
my  ears  and  listened. 

When  the  terrible  story  of  Lucy's  death,  and — and  all 
that  followed,  was  done,  I  lay  back  in  my  chair  powerless. 
Fortunately  I  am  not  of  a  fainting  disposition.  When  Dr. 
Seward  saw  me  he  jumped  up  with  a  horrified  exclama- 
tion, and  hurriedl}^  taking  a  case-bottle  from  a  cupboard, 

246  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

<>ave  me  some  brandy,  which  in  a  few  minutes  somewhat 
restored  me.  My  brain  was  all  in  a  whirl,  and  only  that 
there  came  through  all  the  multitude  of  horrors,  the  holy 
ray  of  light  that  my  dear,  dear  Lucy  was  at  last  at  peace, 
I  do  not  think  I  could  have  borne  it  without  making  a 
scene.  It  is  all  so  wild,  and  mysterious,  and  strange  that  if 
I  had  not  known  Jonathan's  experience  in  Transylvania 
I  could  not  have  believed-  As  it  was,  I  didn't  know  what 
to  believe,  and  so  got  out  of  my  difficulty  by  attending  to 
something  else.  I  took  the  cover  off  my  typewriter,  and  said 
to  Dr.  Seward  : — 

"Let  me  write  this  all  out  now.  We  must  be  ready  for 
Dr.  Van  Helsing  when  he  comes.  I  have  sent  a  telegram  to 
Jonathan  to  come  on  here  when  he  arrives  in  London  from 
Whitby.  In  this  matter  dates  are  everything,  and  I  think 
that  if  we  get  all  our  material  ready,  and  have  every  item 
put  in  chronological  order,  we  shall  have  done  much.  You 
tell  me  that  Lord  Godalming  and  Mr.  Morris  are  coming 
too.  Let  us  be  able  to  tell  him  when  they  come."  He  ac- 
cordingly set  the  phonograph  at  a  slow  pace,  and  I  began 
to  typewrite  from  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  cylinder.  I 
used  manifold,  and  so  took  three  copies  of  the  diary,  just 
as  I  had  done  with  all  the  rest.  It  was  late  when  I  got 
through,  but  Dr.  Seward  went  about  his  work  of  going 
his  round  of  the  patients;  when  he  had  finished  he  came 
back  and  sat  near  me,  reading,  so  that  I  did  not  feel  too 
lonely  whilst  I  worked.  How  good  and  thoughtful  he  is ; 
the  world  seems  full  of  good  men — even  if  there  are  mon- 
sters in  it.  Before  I  left  him  I  remembered  what  Jonathan 
put  in  his  diary  of  the  Professor's  perturbation  at  reading 
something  in  an  evening  paper  at  the  station  at  Exeter; 
so,  seeing  that  Dr.  Seward  keeps  his  newspapers,  I  bor- 
rowed the  files  of  "The  Westminster  Gazette"  and  "The 
Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  and  took  them  to  my  room.  I  remem- 
ber how  much  "The  Dailygraph"  and  "The  Whitbj/  Ga- 
zette," of  which  I  had  made  cuttings,  helped  us  to  under- 
stand the  terrible  events  at  Whitby  when  Count  Dracula 
landed,  so  I  shall  look  through  the  evening  papers  since 
then,  .and  perhaps  I  shall  get  some  new  light.  I  am  not 
sleepy,  and  the  work  will  help  to  keep  me  quiet. 

DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  247 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

JO  September. — Mr.  Harker  arrived  at  nine  o'clock.  He 
had  got  his  wife's  wire  just  before  starting.  He  is  uncom- 
monly clever,  if  one  can  judge  from  his  face,  and  full  of 
energy.  If  this  journal  be  true — and  judging  by  one's  own 
wonderful  experiences,  it  must  be — he  is  also  a  man  of 
great  nerve.  That  going  down  to  the  vault  a  second  time 
was  a  remarkable  piece  of  daring.  After  reading  his  ac- 
count of  it  I  was  prepared  to  meet  a  good  specimen  of 
manhood,  but  hardly  the  quiet,  business-like  gentleman 
who  came  here  to-day. 

Later. — After  lunch  Harker  and  his  wife  went  back  to 
their  own  room,  and  as  I  passed  a  while  ago  I  heard  the 
click  of  the  typewriter.  They  are  hard  at  it.  Mrs.  Harker 
says  that  they  are  knitting  together  in  chronological  order 
every  scrap  of  evidence  they  have.  Harker  has  got  the  let- 
ters between  the  consignee  of  the  boxes  at  Whitby  and  the 
carriers  in  London  who  took  charge  of  them.  He  is  now 
reading  his  wife's  typescript  of  my  diary.  I  wonder  what 
they  make  out  of  it.  Here  it  is.   .  .   . 

Strange  that  it  never  struck  me  that  the  very  next  house 
might  be  the  Count's  hiding-place !  Goodness  knows  that 
we  had  enough  clues  from  the  conduct  of  the  patient  Ren- 
field  !  The  bundle  of  letters  relating  to  the  purchase  of  the 
house  were  with  the  typescript.  Oh,  if  we  had  only  had 
them  earher  we  might  have  saved  poor  Lucy!  Stop;  that 
way  madness  lie !  Harker  has  gone  back,  and  is  again  col- 
lating his  material.  He  says  that  by  dinner-time  they  will 
be  able  to  show  a  whole  connected  narrative.  He  thinks 
that  in  the  meantime  I  should  see  Renfield,  as  hitherto  he 
has  been  a  sort  of  index  to  the  coming  and  going  of  the 
Count.  I  hardly  see  this  yet,  but  when  I  get  at  the  dates  I 
suppose  I  shall.  What  a  good  thing  that  Mrs.  Harker  put 
my  cylinders  into  type!  We  never  could  have  found  the 
dates  otherwise.   .   .   . 

I  found  Renfield  sitting  placidly  in  his  room  with  his 
hands  folded,  smiling  benignly.  At  the  moment  he  seemed 


as  sane  as  any  one  I  ever  saw.  I  sat  down  and  talked  with 
him  on  a  lot  of  subjects,  all  of  w^iich  he  treated  naturally. 
He  then,  of  his  own  accord,  spoke  of  going  home,  a  sub- 
ject he  has  never  mentioned  to  my  knowledge  during  his 
sojourn  here.  In  fact,  he  spoke  quite  confidently  of  getting 
his  discharge  at  once.  I  believe  that,  had  I  not  had  the 
chat  with  Harker  and  read  the  letters  and  the  dates  of  his 
outbursts,  I  should  have  been  prepared  to  sign  for  him 
after  a  brief  time  of  observation.  As  it  is,  I  am  darkly  sus- 
picious. All  those  outbreaks  were  in  some  way  linked  with 
the  proximit}^  of  the  Count.  What  then  does  this  abso- 
lute content  mean?  Can  it  be  that  his  instinct  is  satisfied 
as  to  the  vampire's  ultimate  triumph  ?  Stay ;  he  is  himself 
zoophagous,  and  in  his  wild  ravings  outside  the  chapel 
door  of  the  deserted  house  he  always  spoke  of  "master." 
This  all  seems  confirmation  of  our  idea.  However,  after 
a  while  I  came  away ;  my  friend  is  just  a  little  too  sane 
at  present  lO  make  it  safe  to  probe  him  too  deep  with  ques- 
tions. He  might  begin  to  think,  and  then — !  So  I  came 
away.  I  mistrust  these  quiet  moods  of  his ;  so  I  have  given 
the  attendant  a  hint  to  look  closely  after  him,  and  to  have 
a  strait-waistcoat  ready  in  case  of  need. 

Jonathan  Harker  s  Journal. 

2g  September,  in  train  to  London. — When  I  received 
Mr.  Billington's  courteous  message  that  he  would  give  me 
any  information  in  his  power  I  thought  it  best  to  go 
down  to  Whitby  and  make,  on  the  spot,  such  inquiries  as 
I  wanted.  It  was  now  my  object  to  trace  that  horrid  cargo 
of  the  Count's  to  its  place  in  London.  Later,  we  may  be 
able  to  deal  with  it.  Billington  junior,  a  nice  lad,  met  me  at 
the  station,  and  brought  me  to  his  father's  house,  where 
they  had  decided  that  I  must  stay  the  night.  They  are  hos- 
pitable, with  true  Yorkshire  hospitality  :  give  a  guest  every- 
thing, and  leave  him  free  to  do  as  he  likes.  They  all  knew 
that  I  was  busy,  and  that  my  stay  was  short,  and  Mr. 
Billington  had  ready  in  his  office  all  the  papers  concerning 
the  consignment  of  boxes.  It  gave  me  almost  a  turn  to  see 
again  one  of  the  letters  which  I  had  seen  on  the  Count's 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  24^ 

table  before  I  knew  of  his  diabolical  plans.  Everything  had 
been  carefully  thought  out,  and  done  systematically  and 
with  precision.  He  seemed  to  have  been  prepared  for  every 
obstacle  which  might  be  placed  by  accident  in  the  way  of 
his  intentions  being  carried  out.  To  use  an  Americanism, 
he  had  ''taken  no  chances,"  and  the  absolute  accuracy  with 
which  his  instructions  were  fulfilled,  was  simply  the  logical 
result  of  his  care.  I  saw  the  invoice,  and  took  note  of  it : 
"Fifty  cases  of  common  earth,  to  be  used  for  experimental 
purposes."  Also  the  copy  of  letter  to  Carter  Paterson,  and 
their  reply ;  of  both  of  these  I  got  copies.  This  was  all  the 
information  Mr.  Billington  could  give  me,  so  I  went  down 
to  the  port  and  saw  the  coastguards,  the  Customs  officers 
and  the  harbour-master.  They  had  all  something  to  say  of 
the  strange  entry  of  the  ship,  which  is  already  taking  its 
place  in  local  tradition ;  but  no  one  could  add  to  the  simple 
description  "Fifty  cases  of  common  earth."  I  then  saw  the 
station-master,  who  kindly  put  me  in  communication  with 
the  men  who  had  actually  received  the  boxes.  Their  tally 
was  exact  with  the  list,  and  they  had  nothing  to  add  except 
that  the  boxes  were  "main  and  mortal  heavy,"  and  that 
shifting  them  was  dry  work.  One  of  them  added  that  it 
was  hard  lines  that  there  wasn't  any  gentleman  "such-like 
as  yourself,  squire,"  to  show  some  sort  of  appreciation  of 
their  efforts  in  a  liquid  form;  another  put  in  a  rider  that 
the  thirst  then  generated  was  such  that  even  the  time  whicK 
had  elapsed  had  not  completely  allayed  it.  Needless  to  add, 
I  took  care  before  leaving  to  lift,  for  ever  and  adequately, 
this  source  of  reproach. 

50  September. — The  station-master  was  good  enough  to 
give  me  a  line  to  his  old  companion  the  station-master  at 
King's  Cross,  so  that  when  I  arrived  there  in  the  morn- 
ing I  was  able  to  ask  him  about  the  arrival  of  the  boxes. 
He,  too,  put  me  at  once  in  communication  with  the  proper 
officials,  and  I  saw  that  their  tally  was  correct  with  the 
original  invoice.  The  opportunities  of  acquiring  an  ab- 
normal thirst  had  been  here  limited;  a  noble  use  of  them 
had,  however,  been  made,  and  again  I  was  compelled  ta 
deal  with  the  result  in  an  ex  post  facto  manner. 

250  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

From  thence  I  went  on  to  Carter  Paterson's  central 
office,  where  I  met  with  the  utmost  courtesy.  They  looked 
up  the  transaction  in  their  day-book  and  letter-book,  and 
at  once  telephoned  to  their  King's  Cross  office  for  more 
details.  By  good  fortune,  the  men  wdio  did  the  teaming 
were  waiting  for  work,  and  the  official  at  once  sent  them 
over,  sending  also  by  one  of  them  the  way-bill  and  all 
the  papers  connected  with  the  delivery  of  the  boxes  at 
Carfax.  Here  again  I  found  the  tally  agreeing  exactly; 
the  carriers'  men  were  able  to  supplement  the  paucity  of 
the  written  words  with  a  few  details.  These  were,  I  shortly 
found,  connected  almost  solely  with  the  dusty  nature  of 
the  job,  and  of  the  consequent  thirst  engendered  in  the 
operators.  On  my  affording  an  opportunity,  through  the 
medium  of  the  currency  of  the  realm,  of  the  allaying,  at 
a  later  period,  this  beneficial  evil,  one  of  the  men  re- 
marked : — 

"That  'ere  'ouse,  guv'nor,  is  the  rummiest  I  ever  was  in. 
Blyme !  but  it  ain't  been  touched  sence  a  hundred  years. 
There  was  dust  that  thick  in  the  place  that  you  might  have 
slep'  on  it  without  'urtin'  of  yer  bones ;  an'  the  place  was 
that  neglected  that  yer  might  'ave  smelled  ole  Jerusalem  in 
it.  But  the  ole  chapel — that  took  the  cike,  that  did !  Me  and 
my  mate,  we  thort  we  wouldn't  never  git  out  quick  enough. 
Lor',  I  wouldn't  take  less  nor  a  quid  a  moment  to  stay 
there  arter  dark." 

Having  been  in  the  house,  I  could  well  believe  him; 
but  if  he  knew  what  I  know,  he  would,  I  think,  have  raised 
his  terms. 

Of  one  thing  I  am  now  satisfied :  that  all  the  boxes 
which  arrived  at  Whitby  from  Varna  in  the  Demeter  were 
safely  deposited  in  the  old  chapel  at  Carfax.  There  should 
be  fifty  of  them  there,  unless  any  have  since  been  removed 
— as  from  Dr.  Seward's  diary  I  fear. 

I  shall  try  to  see  the  carter  who  took  away  the  boxes 
from  Carfax  when  Renfield  attacked  them.  By  following 
up  this  clue  we  may  learn  a  good  deal. 

Later. — Mina  and  I  have  worked  all  day,  and  we  have 
put  all  th2  papers  into  order. 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  251- 

Miim  Marker  s  Journal 

50  September. — I  am  so  glad  that  I  hardly  know  how  to 
contain  myself.  It  is,  I  suppose,  the  reaction  from  the 
haunting  fear  which  I  have  had :  that  this  terrible  affair 
and  the  reopening  of  his  old  wound  might  act  detrimen- 
tally on  Jonathan.  I  saw  him  leave  for  Whitby  with  as 
brave  a  face  as  I  could,  but  I  was  sick  with  apprehension. 
The  effort  has,  however,  done  him  good.  He  was  never  so 
resolute,  never  so  strong,  never  so  full  of  volcanic  energy, 
as  at  present.  It  is  just  as  that  dear,  good  Professor  Van 
Helsing  said :  he  is  true  grit,  and  he  improves  under  strain 
that  would  kill  a  weaker  nature.  He  came  back  full  of  life 
and  hope  and  determination;  we  have  got  everything  in 
order  for  to-night.  I  feel  myself  quite  wild  with  excite- 
ment. I  suppose  one  ought  to  pity  any  thing  so  hunted  as 
is  the  Count.  That  is  just  it :  this  Thing  is  not  human — 
not  even  beast.  To  read  Dr.  Seward's  account  of  poor 
Lucy's  death,  and  what  followed,  is  enough  to  dry  up  the 
springs  of  pity  in  one's  heart. 

Later. — Lord  Godalming  and  Mr.  Morris  arrived  earlier 
than  we  expected.  Dr.  Seward  was  out  on  business,  and 
had  taken  Jonathan  with  him,  so  I  had  to  see  them.  It  was 
to  me  a  painful  meeting,  for  it  brought  back  all  poor  dear 
Lucy's  hopes  of  only  a  few  months  ago.  Of  course  they 
had  heard  Lucy  speak  of  me,  and  it  seemed  that  Dr.  Van 
Helsing,  too,  has  been  quite  "blowing  ni}'  trumpet,"  as  Mr. 
Morris  expressed  it.  Poor  fellows,  neither  of  them  is 
aware  that  I  know  all  about  the  proposals  they  made  to 
Lucy.  They  did  not  quite  know  what  to  say  or  do,  as  they 
were  ignorant  of  the  amount  of  my  knowledge ;  so  they 
had  to  keep  on  neutral  subjects.  However,  I  thought  the 
matter  over,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  best  thing 
I  could  do  would  be  to  post  them  in  affairs  right  up  to 
date.  I  knew  from  Dr.  Seward's  diary  that  they  had  been 
at  Lucy's  death — her  real  death — and  that  I  need  not  fear 
to  betray  any  secret  before  the  time.  So  I  told  them,  as 
well  as  I  could,  that  I  had  read  all  the  papers  and  diaries, 

252  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

and  that  my  husband  and  I,  having  typewritten  them,  had 
just  finished  putting  them  in  order.  I  gave  them  each  a 
copy  to  read  in  the  Hbrary.  When  Lord  Godalming  got  his 
and  turned  it  over — it  does  make  a  pretty  good  pile — he 
said : — 

''Did  you  write  all  this,  Mrs.  Harker?" 

I  nodded,  and  he  went  on : — 

''I  don't  quite  see  the  drift  of  it ;  but  you  people  are  all 
so  good  and  kind,  and  have  been  working  so  earnestly  and 
so  energetically,  that  all  I  can  do  is  to  accept  your  ideas 
blindfold  and  try  to  help  you.  I  have  had  one  lesson  al- 
ready in  accepting  facts  that  should  make  a  man  humble 
to  the  last  hour  of  his  life.  Besides,  I  know  you  loved  my 
poor  Lucy — "  Here  he  turned  away  and  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands.  I  could  hear  the  tears  in  his  voice.  Mr. 
Morris,  with  instinctive  delicacy,  just  laid  a  hand  for  a 
moment  on  his  shoulder,  and  then  walked  quietly  out  of  the 
room.  I  suppose  there  is  something  in  woman's  nature  that 
makes  a  man  free  to  break  down  before  her  and  express 
his  feelings  on  the  tender  or  emotional  side  without  feeling 
it  derogatory  to  his  manhood;  for  when  Lord  Godalming 
found  himself  alone  with  me  he  sat  down  on  the  sofa  and 
gave  way  utterly  and  openly.  I  sat  down  beside  him  and 
took  his  hand.  I  hope  he  didn't  think  it  forward  of  me, 
and  that  if  he  ever  thinks  of  it  afterwards  he  never  will 
have  such  a  thought.  There  I  wrong  him ;  I  know  he  never 
will — he  is  too  true  a  gentleman.  I  said  to  him,  for  I  could 
see  that  his  heart  was  breaking : — 

"I  love  dear  Lucy,  and  I  know  what  she  was  to  you,  and 
what  you  were  to  her.  She  and  I  were  like  sisters ;  and  now 
she  is  gone,  will  you  not  let  me  be  like  a  sister  to  you  in 
your  trouble  ?  I  know  what  sorrows  you  have  had,  though 
I  cannot  measure  the  depth  of  them.  If  sympathy  and  pity 
can  help  in  your  affliction,  won't  you  let  me  be  of  some 
little  service — for  Lucy's  sake?" 

In  an  instant  the  poor  dear  fellow  was  overwhelmed 
with  grief.  It  seemed  to  me  that  all  he  had  of  late  been 
suffering  in  silence  found  a  vent  at  once.  He  grew  quite 
hysterical,  and  raising  his  open  hands,  beat  his  palms  to- 
gether in  a  perfect  agony  of  grief.  He  stood  up  and  then 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  25:^ 

sat  down  again,  and  the  tears  rained  down  his  cheeks.  I 
felt  an  infinite  pity  for  him,  and  opened  my  arms  unthink- 
ingly. With  a  sob  he  laid  his  head  on  my  shoulder  and 
cried  like  a  wearied  child,  whilst  he  shook  with  emotion. 

We  women  have  scanething  of  the  mother  in  us  that, 
makes  us  rise  above  smaller  matters  when  the  mother- 
spirit  is  invoked ;  I  felt  this  big  sorrowing  man's  head 
resting  on  me,  as  though  it  were  that  of  the  baby  that  some 
day  may  lie  on  my  bosom,  and  I  stroked  his  hair  as  though 
he  were  my  own  child.  I  never  thought  at  the  time  how 
strange  it  all  was. 

After  a  little  bit  his  sobs  ceased,  and  he  raised  himself 
with  an  apology,  though  he  made  no  disguise  of  his  emo- 
tion. He  told  me  that  for  days  and  nights  past — weary 
days  and  sleepless  nights — he  had  beCin  unable  to  speak 
with  any  one,  as  a  man  must  speak  in  his  time  of  sorrow. 
There  was  no  woman  whose  sympathy  could  be  given  to 
him,  or  with  whom,  owing  to  the  terrible  circumstances 
with  which  his  sorrow  was  surrounded,  he  could  speak 
freely.  '*I  know  now  how  I  suffered,"  he  said,  as  he  dried 
his  eyes,  ''but  I  do  not  know  even  yet — and  none  other 
can  ever  know-7-how  much  your  sweet  sympathy  has  been 
to  me  to-day.  I  shall  know  better  in  time ;  and  believe  me 
that,  though  I  am  not  ungrateful  now,  my  gratitude  will 
grow  with  my  understanding.  You  will  let  me  be  like  a 
brother,  will  you  not,  for  all  our  lives — for  dear  Lucy's 
sake  ?" 

"For  dear  Lucy's  sake,"  I  said  as  we  clasped  hands. 
"Ay,  and  for  your  own  sake,"  he  added,  "for  if  a  man's 
esteem  and  gratitude  are  ever  worth  the  winning,  you  have 
won  mine  to-day.  If  ever  the  future  should  bring  to  you  a 
time  when  you  need  a  man's  help,  believe  me,  you  will  not 
call  in  vain.  God  grant  that  no  such  time  may  ever  come 
to  you  to  break  the  sunshine  of  your  life ;  but  if  it  should 
ever  come,  promise  me  that  you  will  let  me  know."  He  was 
so  earnest,  and  his  sorrow  was  so  fresh,  that  I  felt  it  would 
comfort  him,   so  I   said : — 

"I  promise." 

As  I  came  along  the  corridor  I  saw  Mr.  Morris  looking 
out  of  a  window.  He  turned  as  he  heard  my  footsteps. 

254  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

''How  is  Art?"  he  said.  Then  noticing  my  red  eyes,  he 
went  on :  *'Ah,  I  see  you  have  been  comforting  him.  Poor 
old  fellow !  he  needs  it.  No  one  but  a  woman  can  help  a 
man  when  he  is  in  trouble  of  the  heart;  and  he  had  no 
one  to  comfort  him." 

He  bore  his  own  trouble  so  bravely  that  my  heart  bled 
for  him.  I  saw  the  manuscript  in  his  hand,  and  I  knew  that 
when  he  read  it  he  would  realise  how  much  I  knew;  so 
I  said  to  him : — 

"I  wish  I  could  comfort  all  who  suffer  from  the  heart. 
Will  you  let  me  be  your  friend,  and  will  you  come  to  me 
for  comfort  if  you  need  it?  You  will  know,  later  on,  why 
I  speak."  He  saw  that  I  was  in  earnest,  and  stooping,  took 
my  hand,  and  raising  it  to  his  lips,  kissed  it.  It  seemed  but 
poor  comfort  to  so  brave  and  unselfish  a  soul,  and  impul- 
sively I  bent  over  and  kissed  him.  The  tears  rose  in  his 
eyes,  and  there  was  a  momentary  choking  in  his  throat; 
he  said  quite  calmly : — 

"Little  girl,  you  will  never  regiet  that  true-hearted  kind- 
ness, so  long  as  ever  you  live!"  Then  he  went  into  the 
study  to  his  friend. 

''Little  girl!" — the  very  words  he  had  used  to  Lucy,  and 
oh,  but  he  proved  himself  a  friend! 


DR.     SEWARD's     diary 

?o  September.— I  got  home  at  five  o'clock,  and  found 
that  Godalming  and  Morris  had  not  only  arrived,  but  had 
already  studied  the  transcript  of  the  various  diaries  and 
letters  which  Marker  and  his  wonderful  wife  had  made 
and  arranged.  Harker  had  not  yet  returned  from  his  visit 
to  the  carriers'  men,  of  whom  Dr.  Hennessey  had  written 
to  me  Mrs.  Harker  gave  us  a  cup  of  tea,  and  I  can  hon- 
estly say  that,  for  the  first  time  since  I  have  lived  in  it, 
this  old  house  seemed  like  home.  When  we  had  finished, 
Mrs.  Harker  said  : — 

"Dr  Seward,  may  I  ask  a  favour?  I  want  to  see  your 
patient,  Mr.  Renfield.  Do  let  me  see  him.  What  you  have 
said  of  him  in  your  diary  interests  me  so  much!  blie 
looked  so  appealing  and  so  pretty  that  I  could  not  refuse 
her  and  there  was  no  possible  reason  why  1  should ;  so  i 
took  her  with  me.  When  I  went  into  the  room,  I  told  the 
man  that  a  lady  would  like  to  see  him ;  to  which  he  simply 
answered:  "Why?" 

"She  is  going  through  the  house,  and  wants  to  see  every 
one  in  it,"  I  answered.  "Oh,  very  well,"  he  said ;  "let  her 
come  in,  by  all  means ;  but  just  wait  a  minute  till  I  tidy 
up  the  place."  His  method  of  tidying  was  peculiar :  he  sinv 
ply  swallowed  all  the  flies  and  spiders  in  the  boxes  oefore  I 
could  stop  him.  It  was  quite  evident  that  he  feared,  or  was 
jealous  of,  some  interference.  When  he  had  got  through 
his  disgusting  task,  he  said  cheerfully:  "Let  the  lady  come 
ii\,"  and  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  his  bed  with  his  head 
down,  but  with  his  eyelids  raised  so  that  he  could  see  her 
as  she  entered.  For  a  moment  I  thought  that  he  might  have 
some  homicidal  intent;  I  remembered  how  quiet  he  had 
been  just  before  he  attacked  me  in  my  own  study,  and  I 
took  care  to  stand  where  I  could  seize  him  at  once  if  he 


^56  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

attempted  to  make  a  spring  at  her.  She  came  into  the 
room  with  an  easy  gracefulness  which  would  at  once  com- 
mand the  respect  of  any  lunatic — for  easiness  is  one  of  the 
qualities  mad  people  most  respect.  She  walked  over  to  him, 
smiling  pleasantly,  and  held  out  her  hand. 

''Good-evening,  Mr.  Renfield,"  said  she.  "You  see,  1 
know  you,  for  Dr.  Seward  has  told  me  of  you."  He  made 
no  immediate  reply,  but  eyed  her  all  over  intently  with  a 
set  frown  on  his  face.  This  look  gave  way  to  one  of  won- 
der, which  merged  in  doubt ;  then,  to  my  intense  astonish- 
ment, he  said : — 

''You're  not  the  girl  the  doctor  wanted  to  marry,  are 
you?  You  can't  be,  you  know,  for  she's  dead."  Mrs. 
Harker  smiled  sweetly  as  she  replied : — 

"Oh  no!  I  have  a  husband  of  my  own,  to  whom  I  was 
married  before  I  ever  saw  Dr.  Seward,  or  he  me.  I  am 
Mrs.  Harker." 

"Then  what  are  you  doing  here?" 

"My  husband  and  I  are  staying  on  a  visit  with  Dr.  Se- 

"Then  don't  stay." 

"But  why  not?"  I  thought  that  this  style  of  conversa- 
tion might  not  be  pleasant  to  Mrs.  Harker,  any  more  than 
it  was  to  me,  so  I  joined  in : — ■ 

"How  did  you  know  I  wanted  to  marry  any  one?"  His 
reply  was  simply  contemptuous,  given  in  a  pause  in  which 
he  turned  his  eyes  from  Mrs.  Harker  to  me,  instantly  turn- 
ing them  back  again  : — 

"What  an  asinine  question !" 

"I  don't  see  that  at  all,  Mr.  Renfield,"  said  Mrs.  Harker, 
at  once  championing  me.  He  replied  to  her  with  as  much 
courtesy  and  respect  as  he  had  shown  contempt  to  me : — 
"You  will,  of  course,  understand,  Mrs.  Harker,  that 
when  a  man  is  so  loved  and  honoured  as  our  host  is,  every- 
thing regarding  him  is  of  interest  in  our  little  community. 
Dr.  Seward  is  loved  not  only  by  his  household  and  his 
friends,  but  even  by  his  patients,  who,  being  some  of  them 
hardly  in  mental  equilibrium,  are  apt  to  distort  causes  and 
cfifects.  Since  I  myself  have  been  an  inmate  of  a  lunatic 
asylum,  I  cannot  but  notice 'that  the  sophistic  tendencies  of 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  257 

some  of  its  inmates  lean  towards  the  errors  of  non  causa 
and  icjHoratio  elenchi"  I  positively  opened  my  eyes  at  this 
new  development.  Here  was  my  own  pet  lunatic— the  most 
pronounced  of  his  tvpe  that  I  had  ever  met  with— talking 
elemental  philosophv.  and  with  the  manner  of  a  polished 
gentleman.  I  wonder  if  it  was  Mrs.  Barker's  presence 
which  had  touched  some  chord  in  his  memory.  If  this  new 
phase  was  spontaneous,  or  in  any  way  due  to  her  uncon- 
scious influence,  she  must  have  some  rare  gift  or  power. 

We  continued  to  talk  for  some  time ;  and,  seeing  that  he 
was  seeminglv  quite  reasonable,  she  ventured,  looking  at 
me  questioningly  as  she  began,  to  lead  him  to  his  favourite 
topic  I  was  again  astonished,  for  he  addressed  himselt  to 
the  question  with  the  impartiality  of  the  completest 
sanity ;  he  even  took  himself  as  an  example  when  he  men- 
tioned certain  things.  u     t     1 

''Why,  I  myself  am  an  instance  of  a  man  who  had  a 
strange  belief."  Indeed,  it  was  no  wonder  that  my  friends 
were  alarmed,  and  insisted  on  my  being  put  under  con- 
trol. I  used  to  fancy  that  life  was  a  positive  and  perpetual 
entitv,  and  that  bv  consuming  a  multitude  of  live  things, 
no  matter  how  low  in  the  scale  of  creation,  one  might 
indefinitelv  prolong  life.  At  times   I   held  the  belief   so 
strongly  that  I  actually  tried  to  take  human  life.  The  doc- 
tor here  will  bear  me  out  that  on  one  occasion  I  tried  to 
kill  him  for  the  purpose  of  strengthening  my  vital  powers 
by  the  assimilation  with  my  own  body  of  life  through  the 
medium  of  his  blood— relying,  of  course,  upon  the  Scrip- 
tural phrase,  'For  the  blood  is  the  life.'  Though,  indeed,  the 
vendor  of  a  certain  nostrum  has  vulgarised  the  truism  to 
the  very  point  of  contempt.  Isn't  that  true,  doctor?'    I 
nodded  assent,  for  I  was  so  amazed  that  I  hardly  knew 
what  to  either  think  or  say ;  it  was  hard  to  imagine  that 
I  had  seen  him  eat  up  his  spiders  and  flies  not  five  minutes 
before  Looking  at  my  watch,  I  saw  that  I  should  go  to  the 
station  to  meet  Van  Helsing,  so  I  told  Mrs.  Harker  that 
it  was  time  to  leave.  She  came  at  once,  after  saying  pleas- 
antly to  Mr.  Renfield :  "Good-bye,  and  I  hope  I  may  see 
you    often,    under    auspices    pleasanter    to    yourself,"    to 
which,  to  my  astonishment,  he  replied: — • 

2S8  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

"Good-bye,  my  dear.  I  prav  God  I  may  never  see  your 
sweet  face  again.  May  He  bless  and  keep  you!" 

When  I  went  to  the  station  to  meet  Van  Helsing  I  left 
the  boys  behind  me.  Poor  Art  seemed  more  cheerful  than 
he  has  been  since  Lucy  first  took  ill,  and  Quincey  is  more 
like  his  own  bright  selt  than  he  has  been  for  many  a  lone 
day.  -^  ^ 

^  Van  Helsing  stepped  from  the  carriage  with  the  eager 
nimbleness  of  a  boy.  He  saw  me  at  once,  and  rushed  up 
to  me,  saying : — 

"Ah  friend  John,  how  goes  all  ?  W^ell  ?  So !  I  have  been 
busy,  for  I  come  here  to  stay  if  need  be.  All  affairs  are 
settled  with  me.  and  I  have  much  to  tell.  Madam  Mina 
IS  with  you?  Yes.  And  her  so  fine  husband?  And  Arthur 
and  my  friend  Quince}',  they  are  with  you,  too?  Good'" 
As  I  drove  to  the  house  I  told  him  of' what  had  passed, 
and  oi  how  my  own  diary  had  come  to  be  of  some  use 
through  Mrs.  Harker's  suggestion ;  at  which  the  Profes- 
sor interrupted  me : — 

"Ah,  that  wonderful  .Aladam  i\Iina !  She  has  man's  brain 
— a  brain  that  a  man  should  have  were  he  much  gifted— 
and  a  woman's  heart.  The  good  God  fashioned  her  for  a 
purpose,  believe  me,  when  He  made  that  so  good  combina- 
tion, i^riend  John,  up  to  now  fortune  has  made  that  woman 
ot  help  to  us;  after  to-night  she  must  not  have  to  do  with 
this  so  terrible  affair.  It  is  not  good  that  she  mn  a  risk 
so    great.    W  e   men    are    determined— nay,    are    we    not 
pledged.— to  destroy  this  monster;  but  it  is  no  part  for  a 
woman.  Even  if  she  be  not  harmed,  her  heart  mav  fail 
her  in  so  much  and  so  many  horrors ;  and  hereafter  she 
may  suffer— both  in  waking,  from  her  nerves,  and  in  sleep 
from  her  dreams.  And,  besides,  she  is  young  woman  and 
not  so  long  married ;  there  mav  be  other  things  to  think 
of  some  time,  it  not  now.  You  tell  me  she  has  wrote  all 
then  she  must  consult  with  us;  but  to-morrow  she  say 
good-bye  to  this  work,  and  we  go  alone."  I  agreed  heartily 
with  him,  and  then  I  told  him  what  we  had  found  in  his 
absence:  that  the  house  which  Dracula  had  bought  was 
the  very  next  one  to  my  own.  He  was  amazed,  and  a  ^reat 
concern  seemed  to  come  on  him.  ''Oh  that  we  had  known 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  259 

it  before!"  he  said,  **for  then  we  might  have  reached  him 
in  time  to  save  poor  Lucy.  However,  'the  milk  that  is  spilt 
cries  not  out  afterwards,'  as  you  say.  We  shah  not  think 
of  that,  but  go  on  our  way  to  the  end."  Then  he  fell  into 
a  silence  that  lasted  till  we  entered  my  own  gateway.  Be- 
fore we  went  to  prepare  for  dinner  he  said  to  Mrs. 
Marker : — 

"I  am  told,  Madam  Mina,  by  my  friend  John  that  you 
and  your  husband  have  put  up  in  exact  order  all  things 
that  have  been,  up  to  this  moment." 

"Not  up  to  this  moment.  Professor,"  she  said  impul- 
sively, *'but  up  to  this  morning." 

"But  why  not  up  to  now?  We  have  seen  hitherto  how 
good  light  all  the  little  things  have  made.  We  have  told  our 
secrets,  and  yet  no  one  who  has  told  is  the  worse  for  it." 

Mrs.  Harker  began  to  blush,  and  taking  a  paper  from 
lier  pockets,  she  said  : — 

"Dr.  Van  Helsing,  will  you  read  this,  and  tell  me  if  it 
must  go  in.  It  is  my  record  of  to-day.  I  too  have  seen  the 
need  of  putting  down  at  present  everything,  however 
trivial ;  but  there  is  little  in  this  except  what  is  personal. 
Must  it  go  in?"  The  Professor  read  it  over  gravely,  and 
handed  it  back,  saying : — 

"It  need  not  go  in  if  you  do  not  wish  it ;  but  I  pray  thai 
it  may.  It  can  but  make  your  husband  love  you  the  more, 
and  all  us,  your  friends,  more  honour  you — as  well  as 
more  esteem  and  love."  She  took  it  back  with  another 
blush  and  a  bright  smile. 

And  so  now,  up  to  this  very  hour,  all  the  records  we 
have  are  complete  and  in  order.  The  Professor  took  away 
one  copy  to  study  after  dinner,  and  before  our  meeting, 
Vv^hich  is  fixed  for  nine  o'clock.  The  rest  of  us  have  already 
read  everything ;  so  when  we  meet  in  the  study  we  shall 
all  be  informed  as  to  facts,  and  can  arrange  our  plan  of 
battle  with  this  terrible  and  mysterious  enemy. 

Mina  Harker  s  Journal. 

W  September. — When  we  met  in  Dr.  Seward's  stud)'' 
two  hours  after  dinner,  which  had  been  at  six  o'clock,  we 

26o  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

unconsciously  formed  a  sort  of  board  or  committee.  Pro- 
fessor Van  Helsing  took  the  head  of  the  table,  to  which 
Dr.  Seward  motioned  him  as  he  came  into  the  room.  He 
made  me  sit  next  to  him  on  his  right,  and  asked  me  to  act 
as  secretary;  Jonathan  sat  next  to  me.  Opposite  us  were 
Lord  Godalming,  Dr.  Seward,  and  Mr.  Morris — Lord 
Godalming  being  next  the  Professor,  and  Dr.  Seward  in 
the  centre.  The  Professor  said : — 

**I  may,  I  suppose,  take  it  that  we  are  all  acquainted  with 
the  facts  that  are  in  these  papers."  We  all  expressed  as- 
sent, and  he  went  on : — 

''Then  it  were,  I  think  good  that  I  tell  you  something  of 
the  kind  of  enemy  with  which  we  have  to  deal.  I  shall  then 
make  known  to  you  something  of  the  history  of  this  man, 
which  has  been  ascertained  for  me.  So  we  then  can  dis- 
cuss how  we  shall  act,  and  can  take  our  measure  accord- 

"There  are  such  beings  as  vampires ;  some  of  us  have 
evidence  that  they  exist.  Even  had  we  not  the  proof  of  our 
own  unhappy  experience,  the  teachings  and  the  records  of 
the  past  give  proof  enough  for  sane  peoples.  I  admit  that 
at  the  first  I  was  sceptic.  Were  it  not  that  through  long- 
years  I  have  train  myself  to  keep  an  open  mind,  I  could 
not  have  believe  until  such  time  as  that  fact  thunder  on  my 
ear.  'See !  see !  I  prove ;  I  prove.'  Alas !  Had  I  know  at  the 
first  what  now  I  know — nay,  had  I  ever  guess  at  him — one 
so  precious  life  had  been  spared  to  many  of  us  who  did 
love  her.  But  that  is  gone ;  and  we  must  so  work,  that 
other  poor  souls  perish  not,  whilst  we  can  save.  The 
nosferatu  do  not  die  like  the  bee  when  he  sting  once.  He 
is  only  stronger ;  and  being  stronger,  have  yet  more  power 
to  work  evil.  This  vampire  which  is  amongst  us  is  of  him- 
self so  strong  in  person  as  twenty  men;  he  is  of  cunning 
more  than  mortal,  for  his  cunning  be  the  growth  of  ages ; 
he  have  still  the  aids  of  necromancy,  which  is,  as  his  etymo- 
logy imply,  the  divination  by  the  dead,  and  all  the  dead  that 
he  can  come  nigh  to  are  for  him  at  command ;  he  is  brute, 
and  more  than  brute;  he  is  devil  in  callous,  and  the  heart 
of  him  is  not ;  he  can,  within  limitations,  appear  at  will 
when,  and  where,  and  in  anv  of  the  forms  that  are  to  him : 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  261 

he  can,  within  his  range,  direct  the  elements ;  the  storm, 
the  fog,  the  thunder ;  he  can  command  all  the  meaner 
things :  the  rat,  and  the  owl,  and  the  bat— the  moth,  and 
the  fox,  and  the  wolf  ;  he  can  grow  and  become  small ;  and 
he  can  at  times  vanish  and  come  unknown.  How  then  are 
we  to  begin  our  strike  to  destroy  him  ?  How  shall  we  find 
his  where ;  and  having  found  it,  how  can  we  destroy  ?  My 
friends,  this  is  much ;  it  is  a  terrible  task  that  we  under- 
take, and  there  may  be  consequence  to  make  the  brave 
shudder.  For  if  we  fail  in  this  our  fight  he  must  surely 
win ;  and  then  where  end  we  ?  Life  is  nothings ;  I  heed  him 
not.  But  to  fail  here,  is  not  mere  life  or  death.  It  is  that 
we  become  as  him ;  that  we  henceforward  become  foul 
things  of  the  night  like  him — without  heart  or  conscience, 
preying  on  the  bodies  and  the  souls  of  those  we  love  best. 
To  us  for  ever  are  the  gates  of  heaven  shut ;  for  who  shall 
open  them  to  us  again  ?  We  go  on  for  all  time  abhorred  by 
all ;  a  blot  on  the  face  of  God's  sunshine ;  an  arrow  in  the 
side  of  Him  who  died  for  man.  But  we  are  face  to  face 
with  duty ;  and  in  such  case  must  we  shrink  ?  For  me,  I 
say,  no ;  but  then  I  am  old,  and  life,  with  his  sunshine,  his 
fair  places,  his  song  of  birds,  his  music  and  his  love,  lie  far 
behind.  You  othei  are  young.  Some  have  seen  sorrow ; 
but  there  are  fair  da}«  yet  in  store.  What  say  you?" 

Whilst  he  was  speaking,  Jonathan  had  taken  my  hand. 
I  feared,  oh  so  much,  that  the  appalling  nature  of  our  dan- 
ger was  overcoming  him  when  I  saw  his  hand  stretch  out ; 
but  it  was  life  to  me  to  feel  its  touch — so  strong,  so  self- 
reliant,  so  resolute.  A  brave  man's  hand  can  speak  for  it- 
self ;  it  does  not  even  need  a  woman's  love  to  hear  its 

When  the  Professor  had  done  speaking  my  husband 
looked  in  my  eyes,  and  I  in  his ;  there  was  no  need  for 
speaking  between  us. 

"I  answer  for  Mina  and  myself,"  he  said. 

"Count  me  in,  Professor,"  said  Mr.  Quincey  Morris, 
laconically  as  usual. 

"I  am  with  you,"  said  Lord  Godalming,  "for  Lucy's 
sake,  if  for  no  other  reason." 

Dr.  Seward  simply  nodded.  The  Professor  stood  up  and, 

262  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

after  la3'ing  his  golden  crucifix  on  the  table,  held  out  his 
hand  on  either  side.  I  took  his  right  hand,  and  Lord  Godal- 
ming  his  left ;  Jonathan  held  my  right  with  his  left  and 
stretched  across  to  Mr.  Morris.  So  as  we  all  took  hands 
our  solemn  compact  was  made.  I  felt  my  heart  icy  cold, 
but  it  did  not  even  occur  to  me  to  draw  back.  We  resumed 
our  places,  and  Dr.  Van  Helsing  w^ent  on  with  a  sort  of 
cheerfulness  which  showed  that  the  serious  work  had  be- 
gun. It  was  to  be  taken  as  gravely,  and  in  as  businesslike 
a  way,  as  any  other  transaction  of  life : — 

"Well,  you  know  what  we  have  to  contend  against : 
but  we,  too,  are  not  without  strength.  We  have  on  our 
side  power  of  combination — a  power  denied  to  the  vam- 
pire kind ;  we  have  sources  of  science ;  we  are  free  to 
act  and  think ;  and  the  hours  of  the  day  and  the  night  are 
ours  equally.  In  fact,  so  far  as  our  powers  extend,  they 
are  unfettered,  and  we  are  free  to  use  them.  We  have 
self-devotion  in  a  cause,  and  an  end  to  achieve  which  is 
not  a  selfish  one.  These  things  are  much. 

"Now  let  us  see  how  far  the  general  powers  arrayed 
against  us  are  restrict,  and  how  the  individual  cannot.  In 
fine,  let  us  consider  the  limitations  of  the  vampire  in  gen- 
eral, and  of  this  one  in  particular. 

"All  we  have  to  go  upon  are  traditions  and  superstitions. 
These  do  not  at  the  first  appear  much,  when  the  matter  is 
one  of  life  and  death — nay  of  more  then  either  life  or 
death.  Yet  must  we  be  satisfied ;  in  the  first  place  because 
we  have  to  be — no  other  means  is  at  our  control — and  sec- 
ondly, because,  after  all,  these  things — tradition  and  super- 
stition— are  everything.  Does  not  the  belief  in  vampires 
rest  for  others — though  not,  alas !  for  us — on  them  ?  A 
year  ago  which  of  us  would  have  received  such  a  possi- 
bility, in  the  midst  of  our  scientific,  sceptical,  matter-of- 
fact  nineteenth  century  ?  We  even  scouted  a  belief  that  we 
saw  justified  under  our  very  eyes.  Take  it,  then,  that  the 
vampire,  and  the  belief  in  his  limitations  and  his  cure,  rest 
for  the  moment  on  the  same  base.  For,  let  me  tell  you, 
he  is  known  everywhere  that  men  have  been.  In  old 
Greece,  in  old  Rome ;  he  flourish  in  Germany  all  over,  in 
France,  in  India,  even  in  the  Chernosese ;  and  in  China,  so 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY^  263 

far  from  us  in  all  ways,  there  even  he  is,  and  the  peoples 
fear  him  at  this  day.  He  have  follow  the  wake  of  the  ber- 
serker Icelander,  the  devil-begotten  Hun,  the  Slav,  the 
Saxon,  the  Magyar.  So  far,  then,  we  have  all  we  may  act 
upon ;  and  let  me  tell  you  that  very  much  of  the  beliefs  are 
justified  by  what  we  have  seen  in  our  own  so  unhappy  ex- 
perience. The  vampire  live  on,  and  cannot  die  by  mere 
passing  of  the  time ;  he  can  flourish  when  that  he  can  fat- 
ten on  the  blood  of  the  living.  Even  more,  we  have  seen 
amongst  us  that  he  can  even  grow  younger ;  that  his  vital 
faculties  grow  strenuous,  and  seem  as  though  they  refresh 
themselves  when  his  special  pabulum  is  plenty.  But  he  can- 
not flourish  without  this  diet ;  he  eat  not  as  others.  Even 
friend  Jonathan,  who  lived  with  him  for  weeks,  did  never 
see  him  to  eat,  never !  He  throws  no  shadow ;  he  make  in 
the  mirror  no  reflect,  as  again  Jonathan  observe.  He  has 
the  strength  of  many  of  his  hand — witness  again  Jona- 
than when  he  shut  the  door  against  the  wolfs,  and  when  he 
help  him  from  the  diHgence  too.  He  can  transform  himself 
to  wolf,  as  we  gather  from  the  ship  arrival  in  Whitby, 
when  he  tear  open  the  dog;  he  can  be  as  bat,  as  Madam 
Mina  saw  him  on  the  window  at  Whitby,  and  as  friend 
John  saw  him  fly  from  this  so  near  house,  and  as  my  friend 
Quincey  saw  him  at  the  window  of  Miss  Lucy.  He  can 
come  in  mist  which  he  create — that  noble  ship's  captain 
proved  him  of  this ;  but,  from  what  we  know,  the  distance 
he  can  make  this  mist  is  limited,  and  it  can  only  be  round 
himself.  He  come  on  moonlight  rays  as  elemental  dust — 
as  again  Jonathan  saw  those  sisters  in  the  castle  of  Dra- 
cula.  He  become  so  small — we  ourselves  saw  Miss  Lucy, 
ere  she  was  at  peace,  slip  through  a  hairbreadth  space  at 
the  tomb  door.  He  can,  when  once  he  find  his  way,  come 
out  from  anything  or  into  anything,  no  matter  how  close 
it  be  bound  or  even  fused  up  with  fire — solder  you  call 
it.  He  can  see  in  the  dark — no  small  power  this,  in  a  world 
which  is  one  half  shut  from  the  light.  Ah,  but  hear  me 
through.  He  can  do  all  these  things,  yet  he  is  not  free. 
Nay ;  he  is  even  more  prisoner  than  the  slave  of  the  galley, 
than  the  madman  in  his  cell.  He  cannot  go  where  he  lists ; 
he  who  is  not  of  nature  has  yet  to  obey  some  of  nature's 

264  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

laws — ^why  we  know  not.  He  may  not  enter  anywhere  at 
the  first,  unless  there  be  some  one  of  the  household  who 
bid  him  to  come;  though  afterwards  he  can  come  as  he 
please.  His  power  ceases,  as  does  that  of  all  evil  things, 
at  the  coming  of  the  day.  Only  at  certain  times  can  he 
have  limited  freedom.  If  he  be  not  at  the  place  whither  he 
is  bound,  he  can  only  change  himself  at  noon  or  at  exact 
sunrise  or  sunset.  These  things  are  we  told,  and  in  this 
record  of  ours  we  have  proof  by  inference.  Thus,  where- 
as he  can  do  as  he  will  within  his  limit,  when  he  have  his 
earth-home,  his  coffin-home,  his  hell-home,  the  place  un- 
hallowed, as  we  saw  when  he  went  to  the  grave  of  the  sui- 
cide at  Whitby ;  still  at  other  time  he  can  only  change  when 
the  time  come.  It  is  said,  too,  that  he  can  only  pass  run- 
ning water  at  the  slack  or  the  flood  of  the  tide.  Then  there 
are  things  which  so  afflict  him  that  he  has  no  power,  as  the 
garlic  that  we  know  of ;  and  as  for  things  sacred,  as  this 
symbol,  my  crucifix,  that  was  amongst  us  even  now  when 
we  resolve,  to  them  he  is  nothing,  but  in  their  presence  he 
take  his  place  far  off  and  silent  with  respect.  There  are 
others,  too,  which  I  shall  tell  you  of,  lest  in  our  seeking 
we  may  need  them.  The  branch  of  wild  rose  on  his  coffin 
keep  him  that  he  move  not  from  it;  a  sacred  bullet  fired 
into  the  coffin  kill  him  so  that  he  be  true  dead ;  and  as  for 
the  stake  through  him,  we  know  already  of  its  peace ;  or 
the  cut-ofT  head  that  giveth  rest.  We  have  seen  it  with  our 

''Thus  when  we  find  the  habitation  of  this  man-that-was, 
we  can  confine  him  to  his  coffin  and  destroy  him,  if  we 
obey  what  we  know.  But  he  is  clever.  I  have  asked  my 
friend  Arminius,  of  Buda-Pesth  University,  to  make  his 
record;  and,  from  all  the  means  that  are,  he  tell  me  of 
what  he  has  been.  He  must,  indeed,  have  been  that  Voi- 
vode  Dracula  who  won  his  name  against  the  Turk,  over  the 
great  river  on  the  very  frontier  of  Turkey-land.  If  it  be 
so,  then  was  he  no  common  man ;  for  in  that  time,  and  for 
centuries  after,  he  was  spoken  of  as  the  cleverest  and  the 
most  cunning,  as  well  as  the  bravest  of  the  sons  of  the 
'land  beyond  the  forest.'  That  mighty  brain  and  that  iron 
resolution  went  with  him  to  his  grave,  and  are  even  now 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  265 

arrayed  against  us.  The  Draculas  were,  says  Arminius,  a 
great  and  noble  race,  though  now  and  again  were  scions 
who  were  held  by  their  coevals  to  have  had  dealings  with 
the  Evil  One.  They  learned  his  secrets  in  the  Scholo- 
mance,  amongst  the  mountains  over  Lake  Hermanstadt, 
where  the  devil  claims  the  tenth  scholar  as  his  due.  In  the 
records  are  such  words  as  'stregoica' — witch,  'ordog,'  and 
'pokol' — Satan  and  hell ;  and  in  one  manuscript  this  very 
Dracula  is  spoken  of  as  'wampyr,'  which  we  all  understand 
too  well.  There  have  been  from  the  loins  of  this  very  one 
great  men  and  good  women,  and  their  graves  make  sacred 
the  earth  where  alone  this  foulness  can  dwell.  For  it  is  not 
the  least  of  its  terrors  that  this  evil  thing  is  rooted  deep 
in  all  good;  in  soil  barren  of  holy  memories  it  cannot 

Whilst  they  were  talking  Mr.  Morris  was  looking  stead- 
ily at  the  window,  and  he  now  got  up  quietly,  and  went 
out  of  the  room.  There  was  a  little  pause,  and  then  the 
Professor  went  on  : — 

*'And  now  we  must  settle  what  we  do.  We  have  here 
much  data,  and  we  must  proceed  to  lay  out  our  campaign. 
We  know  from  the  inquiry  of  Jonathan  that  from  the  cas- 
tle to  Whitby  came  fifty  boxes  of  earth,  all  of  which  were 
delivered  at  Carfax ;  we  also  know  that  at  least  some  of 
these  boxes  have  been  removed.  It  seems  to  me,  that  our 
first  step  should  be  to  ascertain  whether  all  the  rest  re- 
main in  the  house  beyond  that  wall  where  we  look  to- 
day ;  or  whether  any  more  have  been  removed.  If  the 
latter,  we  must  trace " 

Here  we  were  interrupted  in  a  very  startling  way.  Out- 
side the  house  came  the  sound  of  a  pistol-shot;  the  glass 
of  the  window  was  shattered  with  a  bullet,  which,  ricochet- 
ing from  the  top  of  the  embrasure,  struck  the  far  wall  of 
the  room.  I  am  afraid  I  am  at  heart  a  coward,  for  I 
shrieked  out.  The  men  all  jumped  to  their  feet ;  Lord  God- 
aiming  flew  over  to  the  window  and  threw  up  the  sash.  As 
he  did  so  we  heard  Mr.  Morris's  voice  without : — 

''Sorry!  I  fear  I  have  alarmed  you.  I  shall  come  in  and 
tell  3^ou  about  it,"  A  minute  later  he  came  in  and  said : — 

*Tt  was  an  idiotic  thing  of  me  to  do,  and  I  ask  your 

266  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

pardon,  Mrs.  Harker,  most  sincerely ;  I  fear  I  must  have 
frightened  you  terribly.  But  the  fact  is  that  whilst  the  Pro- 
fessor was  talking  there  came  a  big  bat  and  sat  on  the 
window-sill.  I  have  got  such  a  horror  of  the  damned 
brutes  from  recent  events  that  I  cannot  stand  them,  and 
I  went  out  to  have  a  shot,  as  I  have  been  doing  of  late  of 
evenings,  whenever  I  have  seen  one.  You  used  to  laugh 
at  me  for  it  then,  Art." 

**Did  you  hit  it  ?"  asked  Dr.  Van  Helsing. 

''I  don't  know ;  I  fancy  not,  for  it  flew  away  into  the 
wood."  Without  saying  any  more  he  took  his  seat,  and 
the  Professor  began  to  resume  his  statement : — 

''We  must  trace  each  of  these  boxes ;  and  when  we  are 
ready,  we  must  either  capture  or  kill  this  monster  in  his 
lair ;  or  we  m.ust,  so  to  speak,  sterilise  the  earth,  so  that  no 
more  he  can  seek  safety  in  it.  Thus  in  the  end  we  may  find 
him  in  his  form  of  man  between  the  hours  of  noon  and 
sunset,  and  so  engage  with  him  when  he  is  at  his  most 

"And  now  for  you,  Madam  Mina,  this  night  is  the  end 
until  all  be  well.  You  are  too  precious  to  us  to  have  such 
risk.  When  we  part  to-night,  you  no  more  must  question. 
We  shall  tell  you  all  in  good  time.  We  are  men  and  are 
able  to  bear;  but  you  must  be  our  star  and  our  hope,  and 
we  shall  act  all  the  more  free  that  you  are  not  in  the  dan- 
ger, such  as  w'e  are." 

All  the  men,  even  Jonathan,  seemed  relieved ;  but  it  did 
not  seem  to  me  good  that  they  should  brave  danger  and, 
perhaps,  lessen  their  safety — strength  being  the  best  safety 
— through  care  of  me ;  but  their  minds  were  made  up,  and, 
though  it  was  a  bitter  pill  for  me  to  swallow,  I  could  say 
nothing,  save  to  accept  their  chivalrous  care  of  me. 

Mr.  Morris  resumed  the  discussion : — 

**As  there  is  no  time  to  lose,  I  vote  we  have  a  look  at 
his  house  right  now.  Time  is  everything  with  him ;  and 
swift  action  on  our  part  may  save  another  victim." 

I  own  that  my  heart  began  to  fail  me  w4ien  the  time  for 
action  came  so  close,  but  I  did  not  say  anything,  for  I  had 
a  greater  fear  that  if  I  appeared  as  a  drag  or  a  hindrance 
to  their  work,   they  might  even   leave  me   out   of   their 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  267 

counsels  altogether.  They  have  now  gone  off  to  Carfax, 
with  means  to  get  into  the  house. 

Manlike,  the}^  had  told  me  to  go  to  bed  and  sleep ;  as 
if  a  woman  can  sleep  when  those  she  loves  are  in  danger ! 
I  shall  lie  down  and  pretend  to  sleep,  lest  Jonathan  have 
added  anxiety  about  me  when  he  returns. 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

I  October,  4  a.  m. — Just  as  we  were  about  to  leave  the 
house,  an  urgent  message  was  brought  to  me  from  Ren- 
field  to  know  if  I  would  see  him  at  once,  as  he  had  some- 
thing of  the  utmost  importance  to  say  to  me.  I  told  the 
messenger  to  say  that  I  would  attend  to  his  wishes  in  the 
morning;  I  was  busy  just  at  the  moment.  The  attendant 
added : — 

"He  seems  very  importunate,  sir.  I  have  never  seen  him 
so  eager.  I  don't  know  but  what,  if  you  don't  see  him  soon, 
he  will  have  one  of  his  violent  fits."  I  knew  the  man  would 
not  have  said  this  without  some  cause,  so  I  said :  "All 
right ;  I'll  go  now" ;  and  I  asked  the  others  to  wait  a  few 
minutes  for  me,  as  I  had  to  go  and  see  my  "patient." 

"Take  me  with  you,  friend  John,"  said  the  Professor. 
"His  case  in  your  diary  interest  me  much,  and  it  had  bear- 
ing, too,  now  and  again  on  our  case.  I  should  much  like 
to  see  him,  and  especial  when  his  mind  is  disturbed." 

"May  I  come  also?"  asked  Lord  Goldaming. 

"Me  too?"  said  Quincey  Morris.  "May  I  come?"  said 
Harker.  I  nodded,  and  we  all  went  down  the  passage 

We  found  him  in  a  state  of  considerable  excitement,  but 
far  more  rational  in  his  speech  and  manner  than  I  had  ever 
s'een  him.  There  was  an  unusual  understanding  of  himself, 
which  was  unlike  anything  I  had  ever  met  with  a  lunatic ; 
and  he  took  it  for  granted  that  his  reasons  would  prevail 
with  others  entirely  sane.  We  all  four  went  into  the  room, 
but  none  of  the  others  at  first  said  anything.  His  request 
was  that  I  would  at  once  release  him  from  the  asylum  and 
send  him  home.  This  he  backed  up  with  arguments  regard- 
ing his  complete  recovery,  and  adduced  his  own  existing 

268  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

sanity.  **I  appeal  to  your  friends,"  he  said,  "they  will,  per- 
haps, not  mind  sitting  in  judgment  on  my  case.  By  the 
way,  you  have  not  introduced  me."  I  was  so  much  aston- 
ished, that  the  oddness  of  introducing  a  madman  in  an 
asylum  did  not  strike  me  at  the  moment;  and,  besides, 
there  was  a  certain  dignity  in  the  man's  manner,  so  much 
of  the  habit  of  equality,  that  I  at  once  made  the  introduc- 
tion: ''Lord  Godalming;  Professor  Van  Helsing;  Mr. 
Quincey  Morris,  of  Texas ;  Mr.  Renfield."  He  shook  hands 
with  each  of  them,  saying  in  turn  : — 

"Lord  Godalming,  I  had  the  honour  of  seconding  your 
father  at  the  Windham;  I  grieve  to  know,  by  your  hold- 
ing the  title,  that  he  is  no  more.  He  was  a  man  loved  and 
honoured  by  all  who  knew  him;  and  in  his  youth  v/as,  I 
have  heard,  the  inventor  of  a  burnt  rum  punch,  much  pa- 
tronised on  Derby  night.  Mr.  Morris,  you  should  be  proud 
of  your  great  state.  Its  reception  into  the  Union  was  a  pre- 
cedent which  may  have  far-reaching  effects  hereafter, 
when  the  Pole  and  the  Tropics  may  hold  alliance  to  the 
Stars  and  Stripes.  The  power  of  Treaty  may  yet  prove  a 
vast  engine  of  enlargement,  when  the  Monroe  doctrine 
takes  its  true  place  as  a  political  fable.  What  shall  any  man 
say  of  his  pleasure  at  meeting  Van  Helsing?  Sir,  I  make 
no  apology  for  dropping  all  forms  of  conventional  prefix. 
When  an  individual  has  revolutionised  therapeutics  by  his 
discovery  of  the  continuous  evolution  of  brain-matter,  con- 
ventional forms  are  unfitting,  since  they  would  seem  to 
limit  him  to  one  of  a  class.  You,  gentlemen,  who  by  nation- 
ality, by  heredity,  or  by  the  possession  of  natural  gifts,  are 
fitted  to  hold  your  respective  places  in  the  moving  world,  I 
take  to  witness  that  I  am  as  sane  as  at  least  the  majority 
of  men  who  are  in  full  possession  of  their  liberties.  And 
I  am  sure  that  you.  Dr.  Seward,  humanitarian  and  medico- 
jurist  as  well  as  scientist,  will  deem  it  a  moral  duty  to  deal 
with  me  as  one  to  be  considered  as  under  exceptional  cir- 
cumstances." He  made  this  last  appeal  with  a  courtly  air 
of  conviction  which  was  not  without  its  own  charm. 

I  think  we  were  all  staggered.  For  my  own  part,  I  was 
under  the  conviction,  despite  my  knowledge  of  the  man's 
character  and  history,  that  his  reason  had  been  restored ; 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  269 

and  I  felt  under  a  strong  impulse  to  tell  him  that  I  was 
satisfied  as  to  his  sanity,  and  would  see  about  the  neces- 
sary formalities  for  his  release  in  the  morning.  I  thought 
it  better  to  wait,  however,  before  making  so  grave  a  state- 
ment, for  of  old  I  knew  the  sudden  changes  to  which  this 
particular  patient  was  liable.  So  I  contented  myself  with 
making  a  general  statement  that  he  appeared  to  be  improv- 
ing very  rapidly ;  that  I  would  have  a  longer  chat  with  him 
in  the  morning,  and  would  then  see  what  I  could  do  in  the 
direction  of  meeting  his  wishes.  This  did  not  at  all  satisfy 
him,  for  he  said  quickly  : — 

"But  I  fear.  Dr.  Seward,  that  you  hardly  apprehend  my 
wish.  I  desire  to  go  at  once — here — now — this  very  hour 
— this  very  moment,  if  I  may.  Time  presses,  and  in  our 
implied  agreement  with  the  old  scytheman  it  is  of  the 
essence  of  the  contract.  I  am  sure  it  is  only  necessary  to 
put  before  so  admirable  a  practitioner  as  Dr.  Seward  so 
simple,  yet  so  momentous  a  wish,  to  ensure  its  fulfilment." 
He  looked  at  me  keenly,  and  seeing  the  negative  in  my 
face,  turned  to  the  others,  and  scrutinised  them  closely. 
Not  meeting  any  sufficient  response,  he  went  on : — 

"Is  it  possible  that  I  have  erred  in  my  supposition?" 

"You  have,"  I  said  frankly,  but  at  the  same  time,  as  I 
felt,  brutally.  There  was  a  considerable  pause,  and  then  he 
said  slowly: — 

"Then  I  suppose  I  must  only  shift  my  ground  of  re- 
quest. Let  me  ask  for  this  concession — boon,  privilege, 
what  you  will.  I  am  content  to  implore  in  such  a  case,  not 
on  personal  grounds,  but  for  the  sake  of  others.  I  am  not  at 
liberty  to  give  you  the  whole  of  my  reasons ;  but  you  may, 
I  assure  you,  take  it  from  me  that  they  are  good  ones, 
sound  and  unselfish,  and  spring  from  the  highest  sense  of 
duty.  Could  you  look,  sir,  into  my  heart,  you  would  ap- 
prove to  the  full  the  sentiments  which  animate  me.  Nay, 
more,  you  would  count  me  amongst  the  best  and  truest  of 
your  friends."  Again  he  looked  at  us  all  keenly.  I  had  a 
growing  conviction  that  this  sudden  change  of  his  entire 
intellectual  method  was  but  yet  another  form  or  phrase 
of  his  madness,  and  so  determined  to  let  him  go  on  a  little 
longer,  knowing  from  experience  that  he  would,  like  all 

27©  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

lunatics,  give  himself  away  in  the  end.  Van  Helsing  was 
gazing  at  him  with  a  look  of  utmost  intensity,  his  bushy 
eyebrows  almost  meeting  with  the  fixed  concentration  of 
his  look.  He  said  to  Renfield  in  a  tone  which  did  not  sur- 
prise me  at  the  time,  but  only  when  I  thought  of  it  after- 
wards— for  it  was  as  of  one  addressing  an  equal : — 

"Can  you  not  tell  frankly  your  real  reason  for  wishing 
to  be  free  to-night  ?  I  will  undertake  that  if  you  wnll  satisf }• 
even  me — a  stranger,  without  prejudice,  and  with  the  habit 
of  keeping  an  open  mind — Dr.  Seward  will  give  you,  at 
his  own  risk  and  on  his  own  responsibility,  the  privilege 
you  seek."  He  shook  his  head  sadly,  and  with  a  look  of 
poignant  regret  on  his  face.  The  Professor  went  on : — 

"Come,  sir,  bethink  yourself.  You  claim  the  privilege  of 
reason  in  the  highest  degree,  since  you  seek  to  impress  us 
with  your  complete  reasonableness.  You  do  this,  whose 
sanity  we  have  reason  to  doubt,  since  you  are  not  yet  re- 
leased from  medical  treatment  for  this  very  defect.  If  you 
will  not  help  us  in  our  effort  to  choose  the  wisest  course, 
how  can  we  perform  the  duty  which  you  3'ourself  put  upon 
us?  Be  wise,  and  help  us;  and  if  we  can  we  shall  aid  you 
to  achieve  your  wish."  He  still  shook  his  head  as  he 
said : — 

"Dr.  Van  Helsing,  I  have  nothing  to  say.  Your  argu- 
ment is  complete,  and  if  I  were  free  to  speak  I  should  not 
hesitate  a  moment ;  but  I  am  not  my  own  master  in  the 
matter.  I  can  only  ask  you  to  trust  me.  If  I  am  refused, 
the  responsibility  does  not  rest  with  me."  I  thought  it  was 
now  time  to  end  the  scene,  which  was  becoming  too  comi- 
cally grave,  so  I  v»^ent  towards  the  door,  simply  saying: — 

"Come,  my  friends,  we  have  work  to  do.  Good-night." 

As,  however,  i  got  near  the  door,  a  new  change  came 
o-^er  the  patient.  He  moved  towards  me  so  quickly  that 
for  the  moment  I  feared  that  he  was  about  to  make  another 
homicidal  attack.  My  fears,  however,  were  groundless,  for 
he  held  up  his  two  hands  imploringly,  and  made  his  pe- 
tition in  a  moving  manner.  As  he  saw  that  the  very  excess 
of  his  emotion  was  militating  against  him,  by  restoring  us 
more  to  our  old  relations,  he  became  still  more  demon- 
strative. I  glanced  at  Van  Helsing,  and  saw  my  conviction 

DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  271 

reflecting  in  his  eyes ;  so  I  became  a  little  more  fixed  in  my 
manner,  if  not  more  stern,  and  motioned  to  him  that  his 
efforts  were  unavailing.  I  had  previously  seen  something 
of  the  same  constantly  growing  excitement  in  him  when 
he  had  to  make  some  request  of  which  at  the  time  he  had 
thought  much,  such,  for  instance,  as  when  he  wanted  a 
cat ;  and  I  was  prepared  to  see  the  collapse  into  the  same 
sullen  acquiescence  on  this  occasion.  My  expectation  was 
not  realised,  for,  when  he  found  that  his  appeal  would  not 
be  successful,  he  got  into  quite  a  frantic  condition.  He 
threw  himself  on  his  knees,  and  held  up  his  hands,  wring- 
ing them  in  plaintive  supplication,  and  poured  forth  a  tor- 
rent of  entreaty,  with  the  tears  rolling  down  his  cheeks, 
and  his  whole  face  and  form  expressive  of  the  deepest 
emotion : — 

"Let  me  entreat  you,  Dr.  Seward,  oh,  let  me  implore 
you,  to  let  me  out  of  this  house  at  once.  Send  me  away 
how  you  will  and  where  you  will ;  send  keepers  with  me 
with  whips  and  chains ;  let  them  take  me  in  a  strait-waist- 
coat, manacled  and  leg-ironed,  even  to  a  gaol ;  but  let  me 
go  out  of  this.  You  don't  know  what  you  do  by  keeping 
me  here.  I  am  speaking  from  the  depths  of  my  heart — 
of  my  very  soul.  You  don't  know  whom  you  wrong,  or 
how ;  and  I  may  not  tell.  Woe  is  me !  I  may  not  tell.  By 
all  you  hold  sacred — by  all  you  hold  dear — ^by  your  love 
that  is  lost— by  your  hope  that  lives — for  the  sake  of  the 
Almighty,  take  me  out  of  this  and  save  my  soul  from  guilt ! 
Can't  you  hear  me,  man  ?  Can't  you  understand  ?  Will  you 
never  learn?  Don't  you  know  that  I  am  sane  and  earnest 
now ;  that  I  am  no  lunatic  in  a  mad  fit,  but  a  sane  man 
fighting  for  his  soul  ?  Oh,  hear  me !  hear  me !  Let  me  go ! 
let  me  go !  let  me  go !" 

I  thought  that  the  longer  this  went  on  the  wilder  he 
would  get,  and  so  would  bring  on  a  fit;  so  I  took  him  by 
the  hand  and  raised  him  up. 

*'Come,"  I  said  sternly,  "no  more  of  this ;  we  have  had 
((uite  enough  already.  Get  to  your  bed  and  try  to  behave 
more  discreetly." 

He  suddenly  stopped  and  looked  at  me  intently  for  sev- 
eral moments.  Then,  without  a  word,  he  rose  and  moving 

972  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

over,  sat  down  on  the  side  of  the  bed.  The  collapse  had 
come,  as  on  former  occasion,  just  as  I  had  expected. 

When  I  was  leaving  the  room,  last  of  our  party,  he  said 
to  me  in  a  quiet,  well-bred  voice : — 

**You  will,  I  trust.  Dr.  Seward,  do  me  the  justice  to 
bear  in  mind,  later  on,  that  I  did  what  I  could  to  convince 
you  to-night." 



I  October,  5  a.  m. — I  went  with  the  party  to  the  search 
with  an  easy  mind,  for  I  think  I  never  saw  Mina  so  abso- 
lutely strong  and  well.  I  am  so  glad  that  she  consented  to 
hold  back  and  let  us  men  do  the  work.  Somehow,  it  was 
a  dread  to  me  that  she  was  in  this  fearful  business  at  all ; 
but  now  that  her  work  is  done,  and  that  it  is  due  to  her 
energy  and  brains  and  foresight  that  the  whole  story  is 
put  together  in  such  a  way  that  every  point  tells,  she  may 
well  feel  that  her  part  is  finished,  and  that  she  can  hence- 
forth leave  the  rest  to  us.  We  were,  I  think,  all  a  little  up- 
set by  the  scene  with  Mr.  Renfield.  When  we  came  away 
from  his  room  we  were  silent  till  we  got  back  to  the  study. 
Then  Mr.  Morris  said  to  Dr.  Seward : — 

"Say,  Jack,  if  that  man  wasn't  attempting  a  bluff,  he  is 
about  the  sanest  lunatic  I  ever  saw.  I'm  not  sure,  but  I 
believe  that  he  had  some  serious  purpose,  and  if  he  had, 
it  was  pretty  rough  on  him  not  to  get  a  chance."  Lord 
Godalming  and  I  were  silent,  but  Dr.  Van  Helsing 
added : — 

"Friend  John,  you  know  more  of  lunatics  than  I  do, 
and  I'm  glad  of  it,  for  I  fear  that  if  it  had  been  to  me 
to  decide  I  would  before  that  last  hysterical  outburst  have, 
given  him  free.  But  we  live  and  learn,  and  in  our  pres- 
ent task  we  must  take  no  chance,  as  my  friend  Quincey 
would  say.  All  is  best  as  they  are."  Dr.  Seward  seemed  to 
answer  them  both  in  a  dreamy  kind  of  way : — 

"I  don't  know  but  that  I  agree  with  you.  If  that  man 
had  been  an  ordinary  lunatic  I  would  have  taken  my 
chance  of  trusting  him ;  but  he  seems  so  mixed  up  with 
the  Count  in  an  indexy  kind  of  way  that  I  am  afraid  of 
doing  anything  wrong  by  helping  his  fads.  I  can't  forgei( 


274  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

how  he  prayed  with  almost  equal  fervour  for  a  cat,  and 
then  tried  to  tear  my  throat  out  with  his  teeth.  Besides,  he 
called  the  Count  iord  and  master,'  and  he  may  want  to  get 
out  to  help  him  in  some  diabolical  way.  That  horrid  thing 
has  the  wolves  and  the  rats  and  his  own  kind  to  help  him, 
so  I  suppose  he  isn't  above  trying  to  use  a  respectable 
lunatic.  He  certainly  did  seem  earnest,  though.  I  only  hope 
we  have  done  what  is  best.  These  things,  in  conjunction 
with  the  wild  work  we  have  in  hand,  help  to  unnerve  a 
man."  The  Professor  stepped  over,  and  laying  his  hand 
on  his  shoulder,  said  in  his  grave,  kindly  way : — 

''Friend  John,  have  no  fear.  Vve  are  trying  to  do  our 
duty  in  a  very  sad  and  terrible  case;  we  can  only  do  as 
we  deem  best.  What  else  have  w^e  to  hope  for,  except  the 
pity  of  the  good  God  ?''  Lord  Godalming  had  slipped  away 
for  a  few  minutes,  but  now  he  returned.  He  held  up  a  little 
silver  whistle,  as  he  remarked : — 

"That  old  place  may  be  full  of  rats,  and  if  so,  I've  got  an 
antidote  on  call."  Having  passed  the  wall,  we  took  our  way 
to  the  house,  taking  care  to  keep  in  the  shadows  of  the 
trees  on  the  lawn  when  the  moonlight  shone  out.  When  we 
got  to  the  porch  the  Professor  opened  his  bag  and  took 
out  a  lot  of  things,  which  he  laid  on  the  step,  sorting  them 
into  four  little  groups,  evidently  one  for  each.  Then  he 
spoke : — 

"^ly  friends,  we  are  going  into  a  terrible  danger,  and 
we  need  arms  of  many  kinds.  Our  enemy  is  not  merely 
spiritual.  Remember  that  he  has  the  strength  of  twenty 
m.en,  and  that,  though  our  necks  or  our  windpipes  are  of 
the  common  kind — and  therefore  breakable  or  crushable — 
his  are  not  amenable  to  mere  strength.  A  stronger  man,  or 
a  body  of  men  more  strong  in  all  than  him,  can  at  certain 
times  hold  him ;  but  they  cannot  hurt  him  as  we  can  be 
hurt  by  him.  We  must,  therefore,  guard  ourselves  from  his 
touch.  Keep  this  near  your  heart" — as  he  spoke  he  lifted 
a  little  silver  crucifix  and  held  it  out  to  me,  I  being  nearest 
to  him — "put  these  flowers  round  3'our  neck" — here  he 
handed  to  me  a  wreath  of  withered  garlic  blossoms — "for 
other  enemies  more  mundane,  this  revolver  and  this  knife ; 
and  for  aid  in  all,  these  so  small  electric  lamps,  which  you 


can  fasten  to  your  breast ;  and  for  all,  and  above  all  at  the 
last,  this,  which  we  must  not  desecrate  needless."  This 
was  a  portion  of  Sacred  Wafer,  which  he  put  in  an  enve- 
lope and  handed  to  me.  Each  of  the  others  was  similarly 
equipped.  "Now,"  he  said,  "friend  John,  where  are  the 
skeleton  keys?  If  so  that  we  can  open  the  door,  we  need 
not  break  house  by  the  window,  as  before  at  Miss  L\icy's." 

Dr.  Seward  tried  one  or  two  skeleton  keys,  his  mer.hani- 
cal  dexterity  as  a  surgeon  standing  him  in  good  stead. 
Presently  he  got  one  to  suit ;  after  a  little  play  back  and 
forward  the  bolt  yielded,  and,  with  a  rusty  clang,  shot 
back.  We  pressed  on  the  door,  the  rusty  hinges  creaked, 
and  it  slowly  opened.  It  was  startlingly  like  the  image  con- 
veyed to  me  in  Dr.  Seward's  diary  of  the  opening  of  Miss 
Westenra's  tomb ;  I  fancy  that  the  same  idea  seemed  to 
strike  the  others,  for  with  one  accord  they  shrank  back. 
The  Professor  was  the  first  to  move  forward,  and  stepped 
into  the  open  door. 

"In  manus  tuas,  Domine!"  he  said,  crossing  himself  as 
he  passed  over  the  threshold.  We  closed  the  door  behind 
us,  lest  when  we  should  have  lit  our  lamps  we  should  pos- 
sibly attract  attention  from  the  road.  The  Professor  care- 
fully tried  the  lock,  lest  we  might  not  be  able  to  open  it 
from  within  should  we  be  in  a  hurry  making  our  exit. 
Then  we  all  lit  our  lamps  and  proceeded  on  our  search. 

The  light  from  the  tiny  lamps  fell  in  all  sorts  of  odd 
forms,  as  the  rays  crossed  each  other,  or  the  opacity  of  our 
bodies  threw  great  shadows.  I  could  not  for  my  life  get 
away  from  the  feeling  that  there  was  some  one  else 
amongst  us.  I  suppose  it  was  the  recollection,  so  power- 
fully brought  home  to  me  by  the  grim  surroundings,  of 
that  terrible  experience  in  Transylvania.  I  think  the  feel- 
ing was  com.mon  to  us  all,  for  I  noticed  that  the  others 
kept  looking  over  their  shoulders  at  every  sound  and  every 
new  shadow,  just  as  I  felt  myself  doing. 

The  whole  place  was  thick  with  dust.  The  floor  was 
seeir  ingly  inches  deep,  except  where  there  were  recent 
footsteps,  in  which  on  holding  down  my  lamp  I  could  see 
marks  of  hobnails  where  the  dust  was  cracked.  The  walls 
were  fluffy  and  heavy  with  dust.,  and  in  the  corneis  were 


masses  of  spider's  webs,  whereon  the  dust  had  gathered 
till  they  looked  like  old  tattered  rags  as  the  weight  had 
torn  them  partly  down.  On  a  table  in  the  hall  was  a  great 
bunch  of  keys,  with  a  time-yellowed  label  on  each.  They 
had  been  used  several  times,  for  on  the  table  were  several 
similar  rents  in  the  blanket  of  dust,  similar  to  that  exposed 
when  the  Professor  lifted  them.  He  turned  to  me  and 
said : — 

"You  know  this  place,  Jonathan.  You  have  copied  maps 
of  it,  and  you  know  it  at  least  more  than  we  do.  Which  is 
the  way  to  the  chapel?"  I  had  an  idea  of  its  direction, 
though  on  my  former  visit  I  had  not  been  able  to  get  ad- 
mission to  it ;  so  I  led  the  way,  and  after  a  few  wrong 
turnings  found  myself  opposite  a  low,  arched  oaken  door, 
ribbed  with  iron  bands.  ''This  is  the  spot,"  said  the  Pro- 
fessor as  he  turned  his  lamp  on  a  small  map  of  the  house, 
copied  from  the  file  of  my  original  correspondence  regard- 
ing the  purchase.  With  a  little  trouble  we  found  the  key 
on  the  bunch  and  opened  the  door.  We  were  prepared  for 
some  unpleasantness,  for  as  we  were  opening  the  door  a 
faint,  malodorous  air  seemed  to  exhale  through  the  gaps, 
but  none  of  us  ever  expected  such  an  odour  as  we  encoun- 
tered. None  of  the  others  had  met  the  Count  at  all  at 
close  quarters,  and  when  I  had  seen  him  he  was  either  in 
the  fasting  stage  of  his  existence  in  his  rooms  or,  when  he 
was  gloated  with  fresh  blood,  in  a  ruined  building  open  to 
the  air;  but  here  the  place  was  small  and  close,  and  the 
long  disuse  had  made  the  air  stagnant  and  foul.  There  was 
an  earthy  smell,  as  of  some  dry  miasma,  which  came 
through  the  fouler  air.  But  as  to  the  odour  itself,  how  shall 
I  describe  it  ?  It  was  not  alone  that  it  was  composed  of  all 
the  ills  of  mortality  and  with  the  pungent,  acrid  smell  of 
blood,  but  it  seemed  as  though  corruption  had  become  it- 
self corrupt.  Faugh!  it  sickens  me  to  think  of  it.  Every 
breath  exhaled  by  that  monster  seemed  to  have  clung  to  the 
place  and  intensified  its  loathsomeness. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  such  a  stench  would  have 
brought  our  enterprise  to  an  end ;  but  this  was  no  ordinary 
case,  and  the  high  and  terrible  purpose  in  which  we  were 
involved   gave   us   a   strength   which   rose   above   merely 


physical  considerations.  After  the  involuntary  shrinking 
consequent  on  the  first  nauseous  whiff,  we  one  and  all  set 
about  our  work  as  though  that  loathsome  place  were  a  gar- 
den of  roses. 

We  made  an  accurate  examination  of  the  place,  the  Pro- 
fessor saying  as  we  began : — 

"The  first  thing  is  to  see  how  many  of  the  boxes  are 
left ;  we  must  then  examine  every  hole  and  corner  and 
cranny  and  see  if  we  cannot  get  some  clue  as  to  what  has 
become  of  the  rest."  A  glance  was  sufficient  to  show  how 
many  remained,  for  the  great  earth  chests  were  bulky,  and 
there  was  no  mistaking  them. 

There  were  only  twenty-nine  left  out  of  the  fifty !  Once 
I  got  a  fright,  for,  seeing  Lord  Godalming  suddenly  turn 
and  look  out  of  the  vaulted  door  into  the  dark  passage  be- 
yond, I  looked  too,  and  for  an  instant  my  heart  stood  still. 
Somewhere,  looking  out  from  the  shadow,  I  seemed  to  see 
the  high  lights  of  the  Count's  evil  face,  the  ridge  of  the 
nose,  the  red  eyes,  the  red  Hps,  the  awful  pallor.  It  was 
only  for  a  moment,  for,  as  Lord  Godalming  said,  'T 
thought  I  saw  a  face,  but  it  was  only  the  shadows,"  and 
resumed  his  inquiry,  I  turned  my  lamp  in  the  direction, 
and  stepped  into  the  passage.  There  was  no  sign  of  any 
one ;  and  as  there  were  no  corners,  no  doors,  no  aperture 
of  any  kind,  but  only  the  solid  walls  of  the  passage,  there 
could  be  no  hiding-place  even  for  him.  I  took  it  that  fear 
had  helped  imagination  and  said  nothing. 

A  few  minutes  later  I  saw  Morris  step  suddenly  back 
from  a  corner,  which  he  was  examining.  We  all  followed 
his  movements  with  our  eyes,  for  undoubtedly  some  nerv- 
ousness was  growing  on  us,  and  we  saw  a  whole  mass  of 
phosphorescence,  which  twinkled  like  stars.  We  all  in- 
stinctively drew  back.  The  whole  place  was  becoming  alive 
with  rats. 

For  a  moment  or  two  we  stood  appalled,  all  save  Lord 
Godalming,  who  was  seemingly  prepared  for  such  an 
emergency.  Rushing  over  to  the  great  iron-bound  oaken 
door,  which  Dr.  Seward  had  described  from  the  outside, 
and  which  I  had  seen  myself,  he  turned  the  key  in  the  lock, 
drew  the  huge  bolts,  and  swung  the  door  open.  Then,  tak- 

278  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

ing  his  little  silver  whistle  from  his  pocket,  he  blew  a  low, 
shrill  call.  It  was  answered  from  behind  Dr.  Seward's 
house  by  the  yelping  of  dogs,  and  after  about  a  minute 
three  terriers  came  dashing  round  the  corner  of  the  house. 
Unconsciously  we  had  all  moved  towards  the  door,  and  as 
we  moved  I  noticed  that  the  dust  had  been  much  dis- 
turbed :  the  boxes  which  had  been  taken  out  had  been 
brought  this  way.  But  even  in  the  minute  that  had  elapsed 
the  number  of  the  rats  had  vastly  increased.  They  seemed 
to  swarm  over  the  place  all  at  once,  till  the  lamplight, 
shining  on  their  moving  dark  bodies  and  glittering,  bale- 
ful eyes,  made  the  place  look  like  a  bank  of  earth  set  with 
fireflies.  The  dogs  dashed  on,  but  at  the  threshold  suddenly 
stopped  and  snarled,  and  then,  simultaneously  lifting  their 
noses,  began  to  howl  in  most  lugubrious  fashion.  The 
rats  were  multiplying  in  thousands,  and  we  moved  out. 

Lord  Godalming  lifted  one  of  the  dogs,  and  carrying 
him  in,  placed  him  on  the  floor.  The  instant  his  feet 
touched  the  ground  he  seemed  to  recover  his  courage,  and 
rushed  at  his  natural  enemies.  They  fled  before  him  so 
fast  that  before  he  had  shaken  the  life  out  of  a  score,  the 
other  dogs,  who  had  by  now  been  lifted  in  the  same  man- 
ner, had  but  small  prey  ere  the  whole  mass  had  vanished. 

With  their  going  it  seemed  a^.  if  some  evil  presence  had 
departed,  for  the  dogs  frisked  about  and  barked  merrily 
as  they  made  sudden  darts  at  their  prostrate  foes,  and 
turned  them  over  and  over  and  tossed  them  in  the  air  with 
vicious  shakes.  We  all  seemed  to  find  our  spirits  rise. 
Whether  it  was  the  purifying  of  the  deadly  atmosphere  by 
the  opening  of  the  chapel  door,  or  the  relief  which  we 
experienced  by  finding  ourselves  in  the  open  I  know  not; 
but  most  certainly  the  shadow  of  dread  seemed  to  slip  from 
us  like  a  robe,  and  the  occasion  of  our  coming  lost  some- 
thing of  its  grim  significance,  though  we  did  not  slacken 
a  whit  in  our  resolution.  We  closed  the  outer  door  and 
barred  and  locked  it,  and  bringing  the  dogs  with  us,  began 
our  search  of  the  house.  We  found  nothing  throughout 
except  dust  in  extraordinary  proportions,  and  all  un- 
touched save  for  my  own  footsteps  when  I  had  made  my 
first  visit.  Never  once  did  the  dogs  exhibit  any  symptom 


of  uneasiness,  and  even  when  we  returned  to  the  chapel 
they  frisked  about  as  though  they  had  been  rabbit-hunting- 
in  a  summer  wood. 

The  morning  was  quickening  in  the  east  when  we 
emerged  from  the  front.  Dr.  Van  Helsing  had  taken  the 
key  of  the  hall-door  from  the  bunch,  and  locked  the  door 
in  orthodox  fashion,  putting  the  key  into  his  pocket  when 
he  had  done. 

"So  far,"  he  said,  "our  night  has  been  eminently  suc- 
cessful. No  harm  has  come  to  us  such  as  I  feared  might  be 
and  yet  we  have  ascertained  how  many  boxes  are  missing. 
More  than  all  do  I  rejoice  that  this,  our  first — and  perhaps 
our  most  difficult  and  dangerous — step  has  been  accom- 
plished without  the  bringing  thereinto  our  most  sweet 
Madam  Mina  or  troubling  her  waking  or  sleeping  thoughts 
with  sights  and  sounds  and  smells  of  horror  which  she 
might  never  forget.  One  lesson,  too,  we  have  learned,  if 
it  be  allowable  to  argue  a  particidari:  that  the  brute  beasts 
which  are  to  the  Count's  command  are  3^et  themselves  not 
amenable  to  his  spiritual  power ;  for  look,  these  rats  that 
would  come  to  his  call,  just  as  from  his  castle  top  he  sum- 
mon the  wolves  to  your  going  and  to  that  poor  mother's 
cry,  though  they  come  to  him,  they  run  pell-mell  from  the 
so  little  dogs  of  my  friend  Arthur.  We  have  other  matters 
before  us,  other  dangers,  other  fears;  and  that  monster 
— he  has  not  used  his  power  over  the  brute  world  for 
the  only  or  the  last  time  to-night.  So  be  it  that  he  has  gone 
elsewhere.  Good !  It  has  given  us  opportunity  to  cry 
'check'  in  some  ways  in  this  chess  game,  which  we  play 
for  the  stake  of  human  souls.  And  now  let  us  go  home. 
The  dawn  is  close  at  hand,  and  we  have  reason  to  be  con- 
tent with  our  first  night's  work.  It  may  be  ordained  that 
we  have  many  nights  and  days  to  follow,  if  full  of  peril ; 
but  we  must  go  on,  and  from  no  danger  shall  we  shrink." 

The  house  was  silent  when  we  got  back,  save  for  some 
poor  creature  who  was  screaming  away  in  one  of  the  dis- 
tant wards,  and  a  low,  moaning  sound  from  Renfield's 
room.  The  poor  wretch  was  doubtless  torturing  himself, 
after  the  manner  of  the  insane,  with  needless  thoughts  of 

28o  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

I  came  tiptoe  into  our  own  room,  and  found  Mina 
asleep,  breathing  so  softly  that  I  had  to  put  my  ear  down 
to  hear  it.  She  looks  paler  than  usual.  I  hope  the  meeting 
to-night  has  not  upset  her.  I  am  truly  thankful  that  she  is 
to  be  left  out  of  our  future  work,  and  even  of  our  delibera- 
tions. It  is  too  great  a  strain  for  a  woman  to  bear.  I  did 
not  think  so  at  first,  but  I  know  better  now.  Therefore  I 
am  glad  that  it  is  settled.  There  may  be  things  which  would 
frighten  her  to  hear;  and  yet  to  conceal  them  from  her 
might  be  worse  than  to  tell  her  if  once  she  suspected  that 
there  was  any  concealment.  Henceforth  our  work  is  to  be 
a  sealed  book  to  her,  till  at  least  such  time  as  we  can  tell 
her  that  all  is  finished,  and  the  earth  free  from  a  monster 
of  the  nether  world.  I  daresay  it  will  be  difficult  to  begin 
to  keep  silence  after  such  confidence  as  ours ;  but  I  must 
be  resolute,  and  to-morrow  I  shall  keep  dark  over  to- 
night's doings,  and  shall  refuse  to  speak  of  anything  that 
\ias  happened.  I  rest  on  the  sofa,  so  as  not  to  disturb  her. 

I  October,  later. — I  suppose  it  was  natural  that  we 
should  have  all  overslept  ourselves,  for  the  day  was  a  busy 
one,  and  the  night  had  no  rest  at  all.  Even  Mina  must  have 
felt  its  exhaustion,  for  though  I  slept  till  the  sun  was 
high,  I  was  awake  before  her,  and  had  to  call  two  or  three 
times  before  she  awoke.  Indeed,  she  was  so  sound  asleep 
that  for  a  few  seconds  she  did  not  recognise  me,  but  looked 
at  me  with  a  sort  of  blank  terror,  as  one  looks  who  has 
been  waked  out  of  a  bad  dream.  She  complained  a  little 
of  being  tired,  and  I  let  her  rest  till  later  in  the  day.  We 
now  know  of  twenty-one  boxes  having  been  removed,  and 
if  it  be  that  several  were  taken  in  any  of  these  removals 
we  may  be  able  to  trace  them  all.  Such  will,  of  course, 
immensely  simplify  our  labour,  and  the  sooner  the  matter 
is  attended  to  the  better.  I  shall  look  up  Thomas  Snelling 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

I  October. — It  was  towards  noon  when  I  was  awakened 
by  the  Professor  walking  into  my  room.  He  was  more 
jolly  and  cheerful  than  usual,  and  it  is  quite  evident  that 


last  night's  work  has  helped  to  take  some  of  the  brooding 
weight  off  his  mind.  After  going  over  the  adventure  of 
the  night  he  suddenly  said : — 

"Your  patient  interests  me  much.  May  it  be  that  with 
you  I  visit  him  this  morning?  Or  if  that  you  are  too  oc- 
cupy, I  can  go  alone  if  it  may  be.  It  is  a  new  experience 
to  me  to  find  a  lunatic  who  talk  philosophy,  and  reason  so 
sound."  I  had  some  work  to  do  which  pressed,  so  I  told 
him  that  if  he  would  go  alone  I  would  be  glad,  as  then  I 
should  not  have  to  keep  him  waiting ;  so  I  called  an  atten- 
dant and  gave  him  the  necessary  instructions.  Before  the 
Professor  left  the  room  I  cautioned  him  against  getting 
any  false  impression  from  my  patient.  "But,"  he  answered, 
"I  want  him  to  talk  of  himself  and  of  his  delusion  as  to 
consuming  live  things.  He  said  to  Madam  Mina,  as  I  see 
in  your  diary  of  yesterday,  that  he  had  once  had  such  a 
belief.  Why  do  you  smile,  friend  John?" 

"Excuse  me,"  I  said,  "but  the  answer  is  here."  I  laid 
my  hand  on  the  typewritten  matter.  "When  our  sane  and 
learned  lunatic  made  that  very  statement  of  how  he  used 
to  consume  life,  his  mouth  was  actually  nauseous  with  the 
flies  and  spiders  which  he  had  eaten  just  before  Mrs. 
Harker  entered  the  room."  Van  Helsing  smiled  in  turn. 
"Good !"  he  said.  "Your  memory  is  true,  friend  John.  I 
should  have  remembered.  And  yet  it  is  this  very  obliquity 
of  thought  and  memory  which  makes  mental  disease  such 
a  fascinating  study.  Perhaps  I  may  gain  more  knowledge 
out  of  the  folly  of  this  madman  than  I  shall  from  the 
teaching  of  the  most  wise.  Who  knows?"  I  went  on  with 
my  work,  and  before  long  was  through  that  in  hand.  It 
seemed  that  the  time  had  been  very  short  indeed,  but  there 
was  Van  Helsing  back  in  the  study.  "Do  I  interrupt?"  he 
asked  politely  as  he  stood  at  the  door. 

"Not  at  all,"  I  answered.  "Come  in.  My  work  is  fin- 
ished, and  I  am  free.  I  can  go  with  you  now,  if  you  like." 

"It  is  needless ;  I  have  seen  him !" 


"I  fear  that  he  does  not  appraise  me  at  much.  Our 
interview  was  short.  When  I  entered  his  room  he  was 
sitting  on  a  stool  in  the  centre,  with  his  elbows  on  his 

282  D  R  A  C  U  L  x\ 

knees,  and  his  face  was  the  picture  of  sullen  discontent. 
I  spoke  to  him  as  cheerfully  as  I  could,  and  with  such  a 
measure  of  respect  as  I  could  assume.  He  made  no  reply 
whatever.  'Don't  you  know  me?'  I  asked.  His  answer  was 
not  reassuring:  *I  know  you  well  enough;  you  are  the  old 
fool  Van  Helsing.  I  wish  you  would  take  yourself  and 
\'Our  idiotic  brain  theories  somewhere  else.  Damn  all  thick- 
headed Dutchmen!'  Not  a  word  more  would  he  say,  but 
sat  in  his  implacable  sullenness  as  indifferent  to  me  as 
though  I  had  not  been  in  the  room  at  all.  Thus  departed 
for  thie  time  my  chance  of  much  learning  from  this  so 
clever  lunatic;  so  I  shall  go,  if  I  may,  and  cheer  myself 
with  a  few  happy  words  with  that  sweet  soul  ]Madam 
Mina.  Friend  John,  it  does  rejoice  me  unspeakable  that 
she  is  no  more  to  be  pained,  no  more  to  be  worried  with 
our  terrible  things.  Though  we  shall  much  miss  her  help, 
it  is  better  so." 

*T  agree  with  you  with  all  my  heart,"  I  answered  earn- 
estly, for  I  did  not  want  him  to  weaken  in  this  matter. 
**Mrs.  Harker  is  better  out  of  it.  Things  are  quite  bad 
enough  for  us,  all  men  of  the  world,  and  who  have  been 
in  many  tight  places  in  our  time;  but  it  is  no  place  for  a 
woman,  and  if  she  had  remained  in  touch  with  the  affair. 
it  would  in  time  infallibly  have  wrecked  her." 

So  Van  Helsing  has  gone  to  confer  with  Mrs.  Harker 
and  Harker ;  Ouincey  and  Art  are  all  out  following  up  the 
clues  as  to  the  earth-boxes.  I  shall  finish  my  round  of 
work  and  we  shall  meet  to-night. 

Mina  Harker s  Journal. 

I  October. — It  is  strange  to  me  to  be  kept  in  the  darK 
as  I  am  to-day ;  after  Jonathan's  full  confidence  for  so 
many  years,  to  see  him  manifestly  avoid  certain  matters, 
and  those  the  most  vital  of  all.  This  morning  I  slept  late 
after  the  fatigue  of  yesterday,  and  though  Jonathan  was 
late  too,  he  was  the  earlier.  He  spoke  to  me  before  he 
went  out,  never  more  sweetly  or  tenderly,  but  he  never 
inentioncd  a  word  of  what  had  happened  in  the  visit  to  the 
Count's  house.  And  yet  he  must  have  known  how  terribly 


anxious  I  was.  Poor  dear  fellow !  I  suppose  it  must  have 
distressed  him  even  more  than  it  did  me.  They  all  agreed 
that  it  was  best  that  I  should  not  be  drawn  further  into 
this  awful  work,  and  I  acquiesced.  But  to  think  that  he 
keeps  anything  from  me!  And  now  I  am  crying  like  a 
silly  fool,  when  I  know  it  comes  from  my  husband's  great 
love  and  from  the  good,  good  wishes  of  those  other  strong 

That  has  done  me  good.  Well,  some  day  Jonathan  will 
tell  me  all ;  and  lest  it  should  ever  be  that  he  should  think 
for  a  moment  that  I  kept  anything  from  him,  I  still  keep 
my  journal  as  usual.  Then  if  he  has  feared  of  my  trust 
I  shall  show  it  to  him,  with  every  thought  of  my  heart  put 
down  for  his  dear  eyes  to  read.  I  feel  strangely  sad  and 
low-spirited  to-day.  I  suppose  it  is  the  reaction  from  the 
terrible  excitement. 

Last  night  I  went  to  bed  when  the  men  had  gone,  simply 
because  they  told  me  to.  I  didn't  feel  sleepy,  and  I  did  feel 
full  of  devouring  anxiety.  I  kept  thinking  over  everything 
that  has  been  ever  since  Jonathan  came  to  see  me  in  Lon- 
don, and  it  all  seems  like  a  horrible  tragedy,  with  fate 
pressing  on  relentlessly  to  some  destined  end.  Everything 
that  one  does  seems,  no  matter  how  right  it  may  be,  to 
bring  on  the  ver}^  thing  which  is  most  to  be  deplored.  If  I 
hadn't  gone  to  Whitby,  perhaps  poor  dear  Lucy  would  be 
with  us  now.  She  hadn't  taken  to  visiting  the  churchyard 
till  I  came,  and  if  she  hadn't  come  there  in  the  day-time 
with  me  she  wouldn't  have  walked  there  in  her  sleep ;  and 
if  she  hadn't  gone  there  at  night  and  asleep,  that  monster 
couldn't  have  destroyed  her  as  he  did.  Oh,  why  did  I  ever 
go  to  Whitby  ?  There  now,  crying  again !  I  wonder  what 
has  come  over  me  to-day.  I  must  hide  it  from  Jonathan, 
for  it  he  knew  that  I  had  been  crying  twice  in  one  morn- 
ing— I,  who  never  cried  on  my  own  account,  and  whom  he 
has  never  caused  to  shed  a  tear — the  dear  fellow  would 
fret  his  heart  out.  I  shall  put  a  bold  face  on,  and  if  I  do 
feel  weepy,  he  shall  never  see  it.  I  suppose  it  is  one  of  the 
lessons  that  we  poor  women  have  to  learn.   .   .   . 

I  can't  quite  remember  how  I  fell  asleep  last  night.  I  re- 
member hearing  the  sudden  barking  of  the  dogs  and  a  lot 

234  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

of  queer  sounds,  like  praying  on  a  very  tumultuous  scale, 
from  Mr.  Renfield's  room,  which  is  somewhere  under  this. 
And  then  there  was  silence  over  everything,  silence  so  pro- 
found that  it  startled  me,  and  I  got  up  and  looked  out  of 
the  window.  All  was  dark  and  silent,  the  black  shadows 
thrown  by  the  moonlight  seeming  full  of  a  silent  mystery 
of  their  own.  Not  a  thing  seemed  to  be  stirring,  but  all  to 
be  grim  and  fixed  as  death  or  fate ;  so  that  a  thin  streak  of 
white  mist,  that  crept  with  almost  imperceptible  slowness 
across  the  grass  towards  the  house,  seemed  to  have  a  sen- 
tience and  a  vitality  of  its  own.  I  think  that  the  digression 
of  my  thoughts  must  have  done  me  good,  for  when  I  got 
back  to  bed  I  found  a  lethargy  creeping  over  me.  I  lay  a 
while,  but  could  not  quite  sleep,  so  I  got  out  and  looked 
out  of  the  window  again.  The  mist  was  spreading,  and  was 
now  close  up  to  the  house,  so  that  I  could  see  it  lying  thick 
against  the  wall,  as  though  it  were  stealing  up  to  the  win- 
dows. The  poor  man  was  more  loud  than  ever,  and  though 
I  could  not  distinguish  a  word  he  said,  I  could  in  some  way 
recognise  in  his  tones  some  passionate  entreaty  on  his  part. 
Then  there  was  the  sound  of  a  struggle,  and  I  knew  that 
the  attendants  were  dealing  with  him.  I  was  so  frightened 
that  I  crept  into  bed,  and  pulled  the  clothes  over  my  head, 
putting  my  fingers  in  m}^  ears.  I  was  not  then  a  bit  sleepy, 
at  least  so  I  thought ;  but  I  must  have  fallen  asleep,  for, 
except  dreams,  I  do  not  remember  anything  until  the 
morning,  when  Jonathan  woke  me.  I  think  that  it  took  me 
an  effort  and  a  little  time  to  realise  where  I  was,  and  that 
it  was  Jonathan  who  was  bending  over  me.  My  dream  was 
very  peculiar,  and  was  almost  typical  of  the  way  that  wak- 
ing thoughts  become  merged  in,  or  continued  in,  dreams. 
I  thought  that  I  was  asleep,  and  waiting  for  Jonathan  to 
come  back.  I  was  very  anxious  about  him,  and  I  was  pow- 
erless to  act;  my  feet,  and  my  hands,  and  my  brain  were 
weighted,  so  that  nothing  could  proceed  at  the  usual  pace. 
And  so  I  slept  uneasily  and  thought.  Then  it  began  to  dawn 
upon  me  that  the  air  was  heavy,  and  dank,  and  cold.  I  put 
back  the  clothes  from  my  face,  and  found,  to  my  surprise, 
that  all  was  dim  around.  The  gaslight  which  I  had  left  lit 
for  Jonathan,  but  turned  down,  came  onlv  like  a  tinv  red 


spark  through  the  fog,  which  had  evidently  grown  thicker 
and  poured  into  the  room.  Then  it  occurred  to  me  that  I 
had  shut  the  window  before  I  had  come  to  bed.  I  would 
have  got  out  to  make  certain  on  the  point,  but  some  leaden 
lethargy  seemed  to  chain  my  limbs  and  even  my  will.  I  lay 
still  and  endured ;  that  was  all.  I  closed  my  eyes,  but  could 
still  see  through  my  eyelids.  (It  is  wonderful  what  tricks 
our  dreams  play  us,  and  how  conveniently  we  can  imag- 
ine.) The  mist  grew  thicker  and  thicker  and  I  could  see 
now  how  it  came  in,  for  I  could  see  it  like  smoke — or  with 
the  white  energy  of  boiling  water — ^pouring  in,  not  through 
the  window,  but  through  the  joinings  of  the  door.  It  got 
thicker  and  thicker,  till  it  seemed  as  if  it  became  concen- 
trated into  a  sort  of  pillar  of  cloud  in  the  room,  through  the 
top  of  which  I  could  see  the  light  of  the  gas  shining  like  a 
red  eye.  Things  began  to  whirl  through  my  brain  just  as 
the  cloudy  column  was  now  whirling  in  the  room,  and 
through  it  all  came  the  scriptural  words  "a  pillar  of  cloud 
by  day  and  of  fire  by  night."  Was  it  indeed  some  such 
spiritual  guidance  that  was  coming  to  me  in  my  sleep  ?  But 
the  pillar  was  composed  of  both  the  day  and  the  night- 
guiding,  for  the  fire  was  in  the  red  eye,  which  at  the 
thought  got  a  new  fascination  for  me ;  till,  as  I  looked,  the 
fire  divided,  and  seemed  to  shine  on  me  through  the  fog  like 
two  red  eyes,  such  as  Lucy  told  me  of  in  her  momentary 
mental  wandering  when,  on  the  cliff,  the  dying  sunlight 
struck  the  windows  of  St.  Mary's  Church.  Suddenly  the 
horror  burst  upon  me  that  it  was  thus  that  Jonathan  had 
seen  those  awful  women  growing  into  reality  through  the 
whirling  mist  in  the  moonlight,  and  in  my  dream  I  must 
have  fainted,  for  all  became  black  darkness.  The  last  con- 
scious effort  which  imagination  made  was  to  show  me  a 
livid  white  face  bending  over  me  out  of  the  mist.  I  must 
be  careful  of  such  dreams,  for  they  would  unseat  one's 
reason  if  there  were  too  much  of  them.  I  would  get  Dr. 
Van  Helsing  or  Dr.  Seward  to  prescribe  something  for 
me  which  would  make  me  sleep,  only  that  I  fear  to  alarm 
them.  Such  a  dream  at  the  present  time  would  become 
woven  into  their  fears  for  me.  To-night  I  shall  strive  hard 
to  sleep  naturally.  If  I  do  not,  I  shall  to-morrow  night 

tS6  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

get  them  to  give  me  a  dose  of  chloral ;  that  cannot  hurt  me 
for  once,  and  it  will  give  me  a  good  night's  sleep.  Last 
night  tired  me  more  than  if  I  had  not  slept  at  all. 

2  October,  lo  p.  m. — Last  night  I  slept,  but  did  not 
dream.  I  must  have  slept  soundly,  for  I  was  not  waked  by 
Jonathan  coming  to  bed;  but  the  sleep  has  not  refreshed 
me,  for  to-day  I  feel  terribly  weak  and  spiritless.  I  spent  all 
yesterday  trying  to  read,  or  lying  down  dozing.  In  the 
afternoon  Mr.  Renfield  asked  if  he  might  see  me.  Poor 
man,  he  was  very  gentle,  and  when  I  came  away  he  kissed 
my  hand  and  bade  God  bless  me.  Some  way  it  affected  me 
much;  I  am  crying  when  I  think  of  him.  This  is  a  new 
weakness,  of  which  I  must  be  careful.  Jonathan  would  be 
miserable  if  he  knew  I  had  been  crying.  He  and  the  others 
were  out  till  dinner-time,  and  they  all  came  in  tired.  I  did 
what  I  could  to  brighten  them  up,  and  I  suppose  that  the 
effort  did  me  good,  for  I  forgot  how  tired  I  was.  After 
dinner  they  sent  me  to  bed,  and  all  went  off  to  smoke  to- 
gether, as  they  said,  but  I  knew  that  they  wanted  to  tell 
each  other  of  what  had  occurred  to  each  during  the  day; 
I  could  see  from  Jonathan's  manner  that  he  had  something 
important  to  communicate.  I  was  not  so  sleepy  as  I  should 
have  been :  so  before  they  went  I  asked  Dr.  Seward  to 
give  me  a  little  opiate  of  some  kind,  as  I  had  not  slept  well 
the  night  before.  He  very  kindly  made  me  up  a  sleeping 
draught,  which  he  gave  to  me,  telling  me  that  it  would  do 
me  no  harm,  as  it  was  very  mild.  ...  I  have  taken  it, 
and  am  waiting  for  sleep,  which  still  keeps  aloof.  I  hope  I 
have  not  done  wrong,  for  as  sleep  begins  to  flirt  with  me, 
a  new  fear  comes :  that  I  may  have  been  foolish  in  thus  de- 
priving myself  of  the  power  of  waking.  I  might  want  it. 
Here  comes  sleep.  Good-night. 



I  October,  evening. — I  found  Thomas  Snelling  in  his 
house  at  Bethnal  Green,  but  unhappily  he  was  not  in  a  con- 
dition to  remember  anything.  The  very  prospect  of  beer 
which  my  expected  coming  had  opened  to  him  had  proved 
too  much,  and  he  had  begun  too  early  on  his  expected  de- 
bauch. I  learned,  however,  from  his  wife,  who  seemed  a 
decent,  poor  soul,  that  he  was  only  the  assistant  to  SmoUet, 
who  of  the  two  mates  was  the  responsible  person.  So  off 
I  drove  to  Walworth,  and  found  Mr.  Joseph  SmoUet  at 
home  and  in  his  shirtsleeves,  taking  a  late  tea  out  of  a  sau- 
cer. He  is  a  decent,  intelligent  fellow,  distinctly  a  good, 
reliable  type  of  workman,  and  with  a  headpiece  of  his  own. 
He  remembered  all  about  the  incident  of  the  boxes,  and 
from  a  wonderful  dog's-eared  notebook,  which  he  pro- 
duced from  some  mysterious  receptacle  about  the  seat  of 
his  trousers,  and  which  had  hieroglyphical  entries  in  thick, 
half-obliterated  pencil,  he  gave  me  the  destinations  of  the 
boxes.  There  were,  he  said,  six  in  the  cartload  which  he 
took  from  Carfax  and  left  at  197,  Chicksand  Street,  Mile 
End  New  Town,  and  another  six  which  he  deposited  at 
Jamaica  Lane,  Bermondsey.  li  then  the  Count  meant  to 
scatter  these  ghastly  refuges  of  his  over  London,  thesr 
places  were  chosen  as  the  first  of  delivery,  so  that  later  he 
might  distribute  more  fully.  The  systematic  manner  in 
which  this  was  done  made  me  think  that  he  could  not  mean 
to  confine  himself  to  two  sides  of  London.  He  was  now 
fixed  on  the  far  east  of  the  northern  shore,  on  the  east  of 
the  southern  shore,  and  on  the  south.  The  north  and  west 
were  surely  never  meant  to  be  left  out  of  his  diabolical 
scheme — let  alone  the  City  itself  and  the  very  heart  of 
fashionable  London  in  the  south-west  and  west.  I  went 


288  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

back  to  Smollet,  and  asked  him  if  he  could  tell  us  if  any 
other  boxes  had  been  taken  from  Carfax. 

He  replied : — 

"Well,  guv'nor,  you've  treated  me  wery  'an'some" — I 
had  given  him  half  a  sovereign — '*an'  Til  tell  yer  all  I 
know.  I  heard  a  man  by  the  name  of  Bloxam  say  four 
nights  ago  in  the  'Are  an'  'Ounds,  in  Pincher's  Alley,  as 
'ow  he  an'  his  mate  'ad  'ad  a  rare  dusty  job  in  a  old  'ouse 
at  Purfect.  There  ain't  a-many  such  jobs  as  this  'ere,  an' 
I'm  thinkin'  that  maybe  Sam  Bloxam  could  tell  ye  sum- 
mut."  I  asked  if  he  could  tell  me  where  to  find  him.  I  told 
him  that  if  he  could  get  me  the  address  it  would  be  worth 
another  half-sovereign  to  him.  So  he  gulped  down  the  rest 
of  his  tea  and  stood  up,  saying  that  he  was  going  to  begin 
the  search  then  and  there.  At  the  door  he  stopped,  and 
said : — 

"Look  'ere,  guv'nor,  there  ain't  no  sense  in  me  a-keepin' 
you  'ere.  I  may  find  Sam  soon,  or  I  mayn't ;  but  anyhow  he 
ain't  like  to  be  in  a  way  to  tell  ye  much  to-night.  Sam  is  a 
rare  one  when  he  starts  on  the  booze.  If  you  can  give  me 
a  envelope  with  a  stamp  on  it,  and  put  yer  address  on  it, 
I'll  find  out  where  Sam  is  to  be  found  and  post  it  ye  to- 
night. But  ye'd  better  be  up  arter  'im  soon  in  the  mornin', 
or  maybe  ye  won't  ketch  'im ;  for  Sam  gets  off  main  early, 
never  mind  the  booze  the  night  afore." 

This  was  all  practical,  so  one  of  the  children  went  oflF 
with  a  penny  to  buy  an  envelope  and  a  sheet  of  paper,  and 
to  keep  the  change.  When  she  came  back,  I  addressed  the 
envelope  and  stamped  it,  and  when  Smollet  had  again 
faithfully  promised  to  post  the  address  when  found,  I  took 
my  way  to  home.  We're  on  the  track  anyhow.  I  am  tired 
to-night,  and  want  sleep.  Mina  is  fast  asleep,  and  looks  a 
little  too  pale ;  her  eyes  look  as  though  she  had  been  crying. 
Poor  dear,  I've  no  doubt  it  frets  her  to  be  kept  in  the  dark, 
and  it  may  make  her  doubly  anxious  about  me  and  the  otb 
ers.  But  it  is  best  as  it  is.  It  is  better  to  be  disappointed 
and  worried  in  such  a  way  now  than  to  have  her  nerve 
broken.  The  doctors  were  quite  right  to  insist  on  her  being 
kept  out  of  this  dreadful  business.  I  must  be  firm,  for  on 
me  this  particular  burden  of  silence  must  rest.  I  shall  not 


ever  enter  on  the  subject  with  her  under  any  circumstances. 
Indeed,  it  may  not  be  a  hard  task,  after  all,  for  she  herself 
has  become  reticent  on  the  subject,  and  has  not  spoken  of 
the  Count  or  his  doings  ever  since  we  told  her  of  our  de- 

2  October,  evening. — A  long  and  trying  and  exciting 
day.  By  the  first  post  I  got  my  directed  envelope  with  a 
dirty  scrap  of  paper  enclosed,  on  which  was  written  with 
a  carpenter's  pencil  in  a  sprawling  hand : — 

"Sam  Bloxam,  Korkrans,  4,  Poters  Cort,  Bartel  Street, 
Walworth.  Arsk  for  the  depite." 

I  got  the  letter  in  bed,  and  rose  without  waking  Mina. 
She  looked  heavy  and  sleepy  and  pale,  and  far  from  well. 
I  determined  not  to  wake  her,  but  that,  when  I  should  re- 
turn from  this  new  search,  I  would  arrange  for  her  going 
back  to  Exeter.  I  think  she  would  be  happier  in  our  own 
home,  with  her  daily  tasks  to  interest  her,  than  in  being 
here  amongst  us  and  in  ignorance.  I  only  saw  Dr.  Seward 
for  a  moment,  and  told  him  where  I  was  off  to,  promising 
to  come  back  and  tell  the  rest  so  soon  as  I  should  have 
found  out  anything.  I  drove  to  Walworth  and  found,  with 
some  difficulty.  Potter's  Court.  Mr.  Smollett's  spelling 
misled  me,  as  I  asked  for  Poter's  Court  instead  of  Pot- 
ter's Court.  However,  when  I  had  found  the  court,  I  had 
no  difficulty  in  discovering  Corcoran's  lodging-house. 
When  I  asked  the  man  who  came  to  the  door  for  the  **de- 
pite,"  he  shook  his  head,  and  said :  "I  dunno  'im.  There 
ain't  no  such  a  person  'ere ;  I  never  'eard  of  'im  in  all  my 
bloomin'  days.  Don't  believe  there  ain't  nobody  of  that 
kind  livin'  'ere  or  anywheres."  I  took  out  Smollet's  letter, 
and  as  I  read  it  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  lesson  of  the 
spelling  of  the  name  of  the  court  might  guide  me.  "What 
are  you  ?"  I  asked. 

"I'm  the  depity,"  he  answered.  I  saw  at  once  that  I  was 
on  the  right  track ;  phonetic  spelling  had  again  misled  me. 
A  half-crown  tip  put  the  deputy's  knowledge  at  my  dis- 
posal, and  I  learned  that  Mr.  Bloxam,  who  had  slept  off 
the  remains  of  his  beer  on  the  previous  night  at  Corcor- 
an's, had  left  for  his  work  at  Poplar  at  five  o'clock  that 

290  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

morning.  He  could  not  tell  me  where  the  place  of  work 
was  situated,  but  he  had  a  vague  idea  that  it  was  some  kind 
of  a  ''new-fangled  ware'us"  ;  and  with  this  slender  clue  I 
had  to  start  for  Poplar.  It  was  twelve  o'clock  before  I  got 
any  satisfactory  hint  of  such  a  building,  and  this  I  got  at 
a  coffee-shop,  where  some  workmen  were  having  their 
dinner.  One  of  these  suggested  that  there  was  being  erected 
at  Cross  Angel  Street  a  new  "cold  storage"  building;  and 
as  this  suited  the  condition  of  a  "new-fangled  ware'us,"  I 
at  once  drove  to  it.  An  interview  with  a  surly  gatekeeper 
and  a  surlier  foreman,  both  of  whom  were  appeased  with 
the  coin  of  the  realm,  put  me  on  the  track  of  Bloxam ;  he 
was  sent  for  on  my  suggesting  that  I  was  willing  to  pay 
his  day's  wages  to  his  foreman  for  the  privilege  of  asking 
him  a  few  questions  on  a  private  matter.  He  was  a  smart 
enough  fellow,  though  rough  of  speech  and  bearing.  When 
I  had  promised  to  pay  for  his  information  and  given  him 
an  earnest,  he  told  me  that  he  had  made  two  journeys  be- 
tween Carfax  and  a  house  in  Piccadilly,  and  had  taken 
from  this  house  to  the  latter  nine  great  boxes — "main 
heavy  ones" — with  a  horse  and  a  cart  hired  by  him  for  this 
purpose.  I  asked  him  if  he  could  tell  me  the  number  of  the 
house  in  Piccadilly,  to  which  he  replied : — 

"Well,  guv'nor,  I  forgits  the  number,  but  it  was  only  a 
few  doors  from  a  big  white  church  or  somethink  of  the 
kind,  not  long  built.  It  was  a  dusty  old  'ouse,  too,  though 
nothin'  to  the  dustiness  of  the  'ouse  we  tooked  the  bloomin' 
boxes  from." 

"How  did  you  get  into  the  houses  if  they  were  both 

"There  was  the  old  party  what  engaged  me  a-waitin'  in 
the  'ouse  at  Purfleet.  He  'elped  me  to  Hft  the  boxes  and 
put  them  in  the  dray.  Curse  me,  but  he  was  the  strongest 
chap  I  ever  struck,  an'  him  a  old  feller,  with  a  white  mous- 
tache, one  that  thin  you  would  think  he  couldn't  throw  a 

How  this  phrase  thrilled  through  me ! 

"Why,  'e  took  up  'is  end  o'  the  boxes  like  they  was 
pounds  of  tea,  and  me  a-puffin'  an'  a-blowin'  afore  I  could 
up-end  mine  anyhow — an'  I'm  no  chicken,  neither." 


"How  did  you  get  into  the  house  in  Piccadilly?"  I  asked. 

''He  was  there  too.  He  must  'a'  started  off  and  got  there 
afore  me,  for  when  I  rung  of  the  bell  he  kem  an'  opened 
the  door  'isself  an'  'elped  me  to  carry  the  boxes  mto  the 


"The  whole  nine?"  I  asked. 

"Yus ;  there  was  five  in  the  first  load  an  four  m  the  sec- 
ond. It  was  main  dry  work,  an'  I  don't  so  well  remember 
'ow  I  got  'ome."  I  interrupted  him :— - 

"Were  the  boxes  left  in  the  hall?"  ^     .   ^^ 

"Yus ;  it  was  a  big  'all,  an'  there  was  nothin'  else  m  it. 
I  made  one  more  attempt  to  further  matters  : — 

"You  didn't  have  any  key  ?" 

"Never  used  no  key  nor  nothink.  The  old  gent,  he  opened 
the  door  'isself  an'  shut  it  again  when  I  druv  ^off .  I  don't 
remember  the  last  time — but  that  was  the  beer." 

"And  you  can't  remember  the  number  of  the  house?" 

"No,  sir.  But  ye  needn't  have  no  difficulty  about  ^that. 
It's  a  'igh  'un  with  a  stone  front  with  a  bow  on  it,  an'  'igh 
steps  up  to  the  door.  I  know  them  steps,  'avin'  'ad  to  carry 
the  boxes  up  with  three  loafers  what  come  round  to  earn 
a  copper.  The  old  gent  give  them  shillin's,  an'  they  seein' 
they  got  so  much,  they  wanted  more;  but  'e  took  one  of 
them  by  the  shoulder  and  was  like  to  throw  'im  down  the 
steps,  till  the  lot  of  them  went  away  cussin'."  I  thought  that 
with  this  description  I  could  find  the  house,  so,  having  paid 
my  friend  for  his  information,  I  started  off  for  Piccadilly. 
I  had  gained  a  new  painful  experience ;  the  Count  could, 
it  was  evident,  handle  the  earth-boxes  himself.  If  so,  time 
was  precious;  for,  now  that  he  had  achieved  a  certain 
amount  of  distribution,  he  could,  by  choosing  his  own  time, 
complete  the  task  unobserved.  At  Piccadilly  Circus  I  dis- 
charged my  cab,  and  walked  westward ;  beyond  the  Junior 
Constitutional  I  came  across  the  house  described,  and  was 
satisfied  that  this  was  the  next  of  the  lairs  arranged  by 
Dracula.  The  house  looked  as  though  it  had  been  long  un- 
tenanted. The  windows  were  encrusted  with  dust,  and  the 
shutters  were  up.  All  the  framework  was  black  with  time, 
and  from  the  iron  the  paint  had  mostly  scaled  away.  It  was 
evident  that  up  to  lately  there  had  been  a  large  notice- 

292  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

board  in  front  of  the  balcony ;  it  had,  however,  been 
roughly  torn  away,  the  uprights  which  had  supported  it 
still  remaining.  Behind  the  rails  of  the  balcony  I  saw  there 
were  some  loose  boards,  whose  raw  edges  looked  white.  I 
would  have  given  a  good  deal  to  have  been  able  to  see  the- 
notice-board  intact,  as  it  would,  perhaps,  have  given  some 
clue  to  the  ownership  of  the  house.  I  remembered  my  ex- 
perience of  the  investigation  and  purchase  of  Carfax,  and 
I  could  not  but  feel  that  if  I  could  find  the  former  owner 
there  might  be  some  means  discovered  of  gaining  access  to 
the  house. 

There  was  at  present  nothing  to  be  learned  from  the 
Piccadilly  side,  and  nothing  could  be  done ;  so  I  went  round 
to  the  back  to  see  if  anything  could  be  gathered  from  this 
quarter.  The  mews  were  active,  the  Piccadilly  houses  being 
mostly  in  occupation.  I  asked  one  or  two  of  the  grooms 
and  helpers  whom  I  saw  around  if  they  could  tell  me  any- 
thing about  the  empty  house.  One  of  them  said  that  he 
heard  it  had  lately  been  taken,  but  he  couldn't  say  from 
whom.  He  told  me,  however,  that  up  to  very  lately  there 
had  been  a  notice-board  of  "For  Sale"  up,  and  that  per- 
haps Mitchell,  Sons,  &  Candy,  the  house  agents,  could  tell 
me  something,  as  he  thought  he  remembered  seeing  the 
name  of  that  firm  on  the  board.  I  did  not  wish  to  seem  too 
eager,  or  to  let  my  informant  know  or  guess  too  much,  so, 
thanking  him  in  the  usual  manner,  I  strolled  away.  It  was 
now  growing  dusk,  and  the  autumn  night  was  closing  in, 
so  I  did  not  lose  any  time.  Having  learned  the  address  of 
Mitchell,  Sons,  &  Candy  from  a  directory  at  the  Berkeley, 
I  was  soon  at  their  office  in  Sackville  Street. 

The  gentleman  who  saw  me  was  particularly  suave  in 
manner,  but  uncommunicative  in  equal  proportion.  Having 
once  told  me  that  the  Piccadilly  house — which  throughout 
our  interview  he  called  a  "mansion" — was  sold,  he  con- 
sidered my  business  as  concluded.  When  I  asked  who  had 
purchased  it,  he  opened  his  eyes  a  thought  wider,  and 
paused  a  few  seconds  before  replying : — 

"It  is  sold,  sir." 

"Pardon  me,"  I  said,  with  equal  politeness,  "but  I  have 
a  special  reason  for  wishing  to  know  who  purchased  it." 


Again  he  paused  longer,  and  raised  his  eyebrows  still 
tuore.  "It  is  sold,  sir,"  was  again  his  laconic  reply. 

"Surely,"  I  said,  "you  do  not  mind  letting  me  know  so 

"But  I  do  mind,"  he  answered.  "The  affairs  of  their  cli- 
ents are  absolutely  safe  in  the  hands  of  Mitchell,  Sons,  & 
Candy."  This  was  manifestly  a  prig  of  the  first  water,  and 
there  was  no  use  arguing  with  him.  I  thought  I  had  best 
meet  him  on  his  own  ground,  so  I  said  : — 

"Your  clients,  sir,  are  happy  in  having  so  resolute  a 
guardian  of  their  confidence.  I  am  myself  a  professional 
man."  Here  I  handed  him  my  card.  "In  this  instance  I  am 
not  prompted  by  curiosity ;  I  act  on  the  part  of  Lord  Go- 
dalming,  who  wishes  to  know  something  of  the  property 
which  was,  he  understood,  lately  for  sale."  These  words 
put  a  different  complexion  on  affairs.  He  said : — 

"I  would  like  to  oblige  you  if  I  could,  Mr.  Harker,  and 
especially  would  I  like  to  oblige  his  lordship.  We  once  car- 
ried  out  a  small  matter  of  renting  some  chambers  for  him 
when  he  was  the  Honourable  Arthur  Holmwood.  If  you 
wnll  let  me  have  his  lordship's  address  I  will  consult  the 
House  on  the  subject,  and  will,  in  any  case,  communicate 
with  his  lordship  by  to-night's  post.  It  will  be  a  pleasure  if 
we  can  so  far  deviate  fron.  our  rules  as  to  give  the  re- 
quired information  to  his  lordship." 

I  wanted  to  secure  a  friend,  and  not  to  make  an  enemy, 
so  I  thanked  him,  gave  the  address  at  Dr.  Seward's  and 
came  away.  It  was  now  dark,  and  I  was  tired  and  hun- 
gry. I  got  a  cup  of  tea  at  the  Aerated  Bread  Company  and 
came  down  to  Purfleet  by  the  next  train. 

I  found  all  the  others  at  home.  Mina  was  looking  tired 
and  pale,  but  she  made  a  gallant  effort  to  be  bright  and 
cheerful,  it  wrung  my  heart  to  think  that  I  had  had  to  keep 
anything  from  her  and  so  caused  her  inquietude.  Thank 
God,  this  will  be  the  last  night  of  her  looking  on  at  our 
conferences,  and  feeling  the  sting  of  our  not  showing  our 
confidence.  It  took  all  my  courage  to  hold  to  the  wise  reso- 
lution of  keeping  her  out  of  our  grim  task.  She  seems 
somehow  more  reconciled ;  or  else  the  very  subject  seems 
to  have  become  repugnant  to  her,  for  when  any  accidental 

294  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

allusion  is  made  she  actually  shudders.  I  am  glad  we  made 
our  resolution  in  time,  as  with  such  a  feeling  as  this,  our 
growing  knowledge  would  be  torture  to  her. 

I  could  not  tell  the  others  of  the  day's  discovery  till  we 
were  alone ;  so  after  dinner — followed  by  a  little  music  to 
save  appearances  even  amongst  ourselves — I  took  Mina  to 
her  room  and  left  her  to  go  to  bed.  The  dear  girl  was  more 
affectionate  with  me  than  ever,  and  clung  to  me  as  though 
she  would  detain  me ;  but  there  was  much  to  be  talked  of 
and  I  came  away.  Thank  God,  the  ceasing  of  telling  things 
has  made  no  difference  between  us. 

When  I  came  down  again  I  found  the  others  all  gath- 
ered round  the  fire  in  the  study.  In  the  train  I  had  written 
my  diary  so  far,  and  simply  read  it  off  to  them  as  the  best 
means  of  letting  them  get  abreast  of  my  own  information ; 
when  I  had  finished  Van  Helsing  said : — 

"This  has  been  a  great  day's  work,  friend  Jonathan. 
Doubtless  we  are  on  the  track  of  the  missing  boxes.  If  we 
find  them  all  in  that  house,  then  our  work  is  near  the  end. 
But  if  there  be  some  missing,  we  must  search  until  we  find 
them.  Then  shall  we  make  our  final  coup,  and  hunt  the 
wretch  to  his  real  death."  We  all  sat  silent  awhile  and  all  at 
once  Mr.  Morris  spoke  : — 

"Sa}^  how  are  we  going  to  get  into  that  house?" 

"We  got  into  the  other,"  answered  Lord  Godalming 

"But,  Art,  this  is  different.  We  broke  house  at  Carfax, 
but  we  had  night  and  a  walled  park  to  protect  us.  It  will  be 
a  mighty  different  thing  to  commit  burglary  in  Piccadilly, 
either  by  day  or  night.  I  confess  I  don't  see  how  we  are 
going  to  get  in  unless  that  agency  duck  can  find  us  a  key 
of  some  sort ;  perhaps  we  shall  know  when  you  get  his  let- 
ter in  the  morning."  Lord  Godalming's  brows  contracted, 
and  he  stood  up  and  walked  about  the  room.  By-and-by 
he  stopped  and  said,  turning  from  one  to  another  of  us : — ■■ 

"Quincey's  head  is  level.  This  burglary  business  is  get- 
ting serious ;  we  got  oft"  once  all  right ;  but  we  have  now  a 
rare  job  on  hand — unless  we  can  find  the  Count's  key  bas- 


As  nothing  could  well  be  done  before  morning,  and  as  it 
would  be  at  least  advisable  to  wait  till  Lord  Godalming 
should  hear  from  Mitchell's,  we  decided  not  to  take  any 
active  step  before  breakfast  time.  For  a  good  while  we  sat 
and  smoked,  discussing  the  matter  in  its  various  lights  and 
bearings ;  I  took  the  opportunity  of  bringing  this  diary 
right  up  to  the  moment.  I  am  very  sleepy  and  shall  go  to 
bed.   ... 

Just  a  line.  Mina  sleeps  soundly  and  her  breathing  is 
regular.  Her  forehead  is  puckered  up  into  little  wrinkles, 
as  though  she  thinks  even  in  her  sleep.  She  is  still  too  pale, 
but  does  not  look  so  haggard  as  she  did  this  morning.  To- 
morrow will,  I  hope,  mend  all  this ;  she  will  be  herself  at 
home  in  Exeter.  Oh,  but  I  am  sleepy! 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

I  October. — I  am  puzzled  afresh  about  Renfield.  His 
moods  change  so  rapidly  that  I  find  it  difficult  to  keep  touch 
of  them,  and  as  they  always  mean  something  more  than  his 
own  well-being,  they  form  a  more  than  interesting  study. 
This  morning,  when  I  went  to  see  him  after  his  repulse  of 
Van  Helsing,  his  manner  was  that  of  a  man  commanding 
destiny.  He  was,  in  fact,  commanding  destiny — subject- 
ively.  He  did  not  really  care  for  any  of  the  things  of  mere 
earth ;  he  was  in  the  clouds  and  looked  down  on  all  the 
weaknesses  and  wants  of  us  poor  mortals.  I  thought  I 
would  improve  the  occasion  and  learn  something,  so  I 
asked  him : — 

"What  about  the  flies  these  times?"  He  smiled  on  me  in 
quite  a  superior  sort  of  way — such  a  smile  as  would  have 
become  the  face  of  Malvolio — as  he  answered  me : — 

"The  fly,  my  dear  sir,  has  one  striking  feature ;  its  wings 
are  typical  of  the  aerial  powers  of  the  psychic  faculties. 
The  ancients  did  well  when  they  typified  the  soul  as  a  but- 

I  thought  I  would  push  his  analogy  to  its  utmost  logi- 
cally, so  I  said  quickly  : — 

"Oh,  it  is  a  soul  you  are  after  now,  is  it?"  His  madness 
foiled  his  reason,  and  a  puzzled  look  spread  over  his  face 

296  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

as,  shaking  his  head  with  a  decision  Vv^hich  I  had  but  sel- 
dom seen  in  him,  he  said  : — 

**Oh,  no,  oh  no !  I  want  no  souls.  Life  is  all  I  want." 
Here  he  brightened  up;  "I  am  pretty  indifferent  about  it  at 
present.  Life  is  all  right;  I  have  all  I  want.  You  must  get  a 
new  patient,  doctor,  if  you  wish  to  study  zoophagy !" 

This  puzzled  me  a  little,  so  I  drew  him  on : — 

"Then  you  command  life;  you  are  a  god,  I  suppose?" 
He  smiled  with  an  ineffably  benign  superiority. 

"Oh  no !  Far  be  it  from  me  to  arrogate  to  myself  the  at- 
tributes of  the  Deity.  I  am  not  even  concerned  in  His  espe- 
cially spiritual  doings.  If  I  may  state  my  intellectual  posi- 
tion I  am,  so  far  as  concerns  things  purely  terrestrial, 
somewhat  in  the  position  which  Enoch  occupied  spiritu- 
ally !"  This  was  a  poser  to  me.  I  could  not  at  the  moment 
recall  Enoch's  appositeness ;  so  I  had  to  ask  a  simple  ques- 
tion, though  I  felt  that  by  so  doing  I  was  lowering  myself 
in  the  eyes  of  the  lunatic: — 

"And  why  with  Enoch  ?" 

"Because  he  walked  with  God."  I  could  not  see  the 
analogy,  but  did  not  like  to  admit  it ;  so  I  harked  back  to 
what  he  had  denied  : — 

"So  you  don't  care  about  life  and  you  don't  want  souls. 
Why  not?"  I  put  my  question  quickly  and  somewhat 
sternly,  on  purpose  to  disconcert  him.  The  effort  suc- 
ceeded; for  an  instant  he  unconsciously  relapsed  into  his 
old  servile  manner,  bent  low  before  me,  and  actually 
fawned  upon  me  as  he  replied  : — 

"I  don't  want  any  souls,  indeed,  indeed!  I  don't.  I 
couldn't  use  them  if  I  had  them;  they  would  be  no  man- 
ner of  use  to  me.  I  couldn't  eat  them  or "  He  sud- 
denly stopped  and  the  old  cunning  look  spread  over  his 
face,  like  a  wind-sweep  on  the  surface  of  the  water.  "And 
doctor,  as  to  life,  what  is  it  after  all  ?  When  you've  got  all 
you  require,  and  you  know  that  you  will  never  want,  that  is 
all.  I  have  triends- — good  friends — like  you.  Dr.  Seward"  ; 
this  was  said  with  a  leer  of  inexpressible  cunning.  "I  know 
that  I  shall  never  lack  the  means  of  life !" 

I  think  that  through  the  cloudiness  of  his  insanity  he 
saw  some  antagonism  in  me,  for  he  at  once  fell  back  on  the 


last  refuge  of  such  as  he — a  dogged  silence.  After  a  short 
time  I  saw  that  for  the  present  it  was  useless  to  speak  to 
him.  He  was  sulky,  and  so  I  came  away. 

Later  in  the  day  he  sent  for  me.  Ordinarily  I  would  not 
have  come  without  special  reason,  but  just  at  present  I  am 
so  interested  in  him  that  I  would  gladly  make  an  efifort. 
Besides,  I  am  glad  to  have  anything  to  help  to  pass  the 
time.  Harker  is  out,  following  up  clues ;  and  so  are  Lord 
Godalming  and  Quincey.  Van  Helsing  sits  in  my  study 
poring  over  the  record  prepared  by  the  Markers ;  he  seems 
to  think  that  by  accurate  knowledge  of  all  details  he  will 
light  upon  some  clue.  He  does  not  wish  to  be  disturbed  in 
the  work,  without  cause.  I  would  have  taken  him  with  me 
to  see  the  patient,  only  I  thought  that  after  his  last  re- 
pulse he  might  not  care  to  go  again.  There  was  also  another 
reason :  Renfield  might  not  speak  so  freely  before  a  third 
person  as  when  he  and  I  were  alone. 

I  found  him  sitting  out  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  on  his 
stool,  a  pose  which  is  generally  indicative  of  some  mental 
energy  on  his  part.  When  I  came  in,  he  said  at  once,  as 
though  the  question  had  been  waiting  on  his  lips  : — 

''What  about  souls?"  It  was  evident  then  that  my  sur- 
mise had  been  correct.  Unconscious  cerebration  was  doing 
its  work,  even  with  the  lunatic.  I  determined  to  have  the 
matter  out.  "What  about  them  yourself  ?"  I  asked.  He  did 
not  reply  for  a  moment  but  looked  all  round  him,  and  up 
and  down,  as  though  he  expected  to  find  some  inspiration 
for  an  answer. 

"I  don't  want  any  souls!'*  he  said  in  a  feeble,  apologetic 
way.  The  matter  seemed  preying  on  his  mind,  and  so  I  de- 
termined to  use  it — to  "be  cruel  only  to  be  kind."  So  I 
said : — 

"You  like  life,  and  you  want  life?" 

"Oh  yes !  but  that  is  all  right ;  you  needn't  worry  about 
that !" 

"But,"  I  asked,  "how  are  we  to  get  the  life  without  get- 
ting the  soul  also?"  This  seemed  to  puzzle  him,  so  I  fol- 
lowed it  up : — 

"A  nice  time  you'll  have  some  time  when  you're  flying 
out  there,  with  the  souls  of  thousands  of  flies  and  spiders 

298  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

and  birds  and  cats  buzzing  and  twittering  and  miauing  all 
round  you.  You've  got  their  lives,  you  know,  and  you  must 
put  up  with  their  souls !"  Something  seemed  to  affect  his 
imagination,  for  he  put  his  fingers  to  his  ears  and  shut  his 
eyes,  screwing  them  up  tightly  just  as  a  small  boy  does 
when  his  face  is  being  soaped.  There  was  something  pa- 
thetic in  it  that  touched  me ;  it  also  gave  me  a  lesson,  for 
it  seemed  that  before  me  was  a  child — only  a  child,  though 
the  features  were  worn,  and  the  stubble  on  the  jaws  was 
white.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  undergoing  some  process 
of  mental  disturbance,  and,  knowing  how  his  past  moods 
had  interpreted  things  seemingly  foreign  to  himself,  I 
thought  I  would  enter  into  his  mind  as  well  as  I  could  and 
go  with  him.  The  first  step  was  to  restore  confidence,  so  I 
asked  him,  speaking  pretty  loud  so  that  he  would  hear  me 
through  his  closed  ears  : — ■ 

''Would  you  like  some  sugar  to  get  your  flies  round 
again?"  He  seemed  to  wake  up  all  at  once,  and  shook  his 
head.  With  a  laugh  he  replied : — 

"Not  much !  flies  are  poor  things,  after  all !"  After  a 
pause  he  added,  "But  I  don't  want  their  souls  buzzing 
round  me,  all  the  same." 

"Or  spiders?"  I  went  on. 

"Blow  spiders !  What's  the  use  of  spiders  ?  There  isn't 
anything  in  them  to  eat  or" — he  stopped  suddenly,  as 
though  reminded  of  a  forbidden  topic. 

"So,  so!"  I  thought  to  myself,  "this  is  the  second  time 
he  has  suddenly  stopped  at  the  word  'drink' ;  what  does  it 
mean?"  Renfield  seemed  himself  aware  of  having  made  a 
lapse,  for  he  hurried  on,  as  though  to  distract  my  attention 
from  it : — 

"I  don't  take  an}^  stock  at  all  in  such  matters.  'Rats  and 
mice  and  such  small  deer,'  as  Shakespeare  has  it,  'chicken- 
feed  of  the  larder'  they  might  be  called.  I'm  past  all  that 
sort  of  nonsense.  You  might  as  well  ask  a  man  to  eat  mole- 
cules with  a  pair  of  chopsticks,  as  to  try  to  interest  me 
about  the  lesser  carnivora,  when  I  know  of  what  is  before 

"I  see,"  I  said.  "You  want  big  things  that  you  can  make 


your  teeth  meet  in?  How  would  you  like  to  breakfast  on 

''What  ridiculous  nonsense  you  are  talking!"  He  was 
getting  too  wide  awake,  so  I  thought  I  would  press  him 
hard.  "I  wonder,"  I  said  reflectively,  "what  an  elephant's 
soul  is  like !" 

The  effect  I  desired  was  obtained,  for  he  at  once  fell 
from  his  high-horse  and  became  a  child  again. 

*T  don't  want  an  elephant's  soul,  or  any  soul  at  all!"  he 
said.  For  a  few  moments  he  sat  despondently.  Suddenly  he 
jumped  to  his  feet,  with  his  eyes  blazing  and  all  the  signs 
of  intense  cerebral  excitement.  "To  hell  with  you  and  your 
souls!"  he  shouted.  "Why  do  you  plague  me  about  souls? 
Haven't  I  got  enough  to  worry,  and  pain,  and  distract  me 
already,  without  thinking  of  souls !"  He  looked  so  hostile 
that  I  thought  he  was  in  for  another  homicidal  fit,  so  I 
blew  my  whistle.  The  instant,  however,  that  I  did  so  he 
became  calm,  and  said  apologetically : — 

"Forgive  me.  Doctor ;  I  forgot  myself.  You  do  not  need 
any  help.  I  am  so  worried  in  my  mind  that  I  am  apt  to  be 
irritable.  If  you  only  knew  the  problem  I  have  to  face,  and 
that  I  am  working  out,  you  would  pity,  and  tolerate,  and 
pardon  me.  Pray  do  not  put  me  in  a  strait-waistcoat.  I 
want  to  think  and  I  cannot  think  freely  when  my  body  is 
confined.  I  am  sure  you  will  understand !"  He  had  evi- 
dently self-control;  so  when  the  attendants  came  I  told 
them  not  to  mind,  and  they  withdrew.  Renfield  watched 
them  go;  when  the  door  was  closed  he  said,  with  consid- 
erable dignity  and  sweetness  : — 

"Dr.  Seward,  you  have  been  very  considerate  towards 
me.  Believe  me  that  I  am  very,  very  grateful  to  you!"  I 
thought  it  well  to  leave  him  in  this  mood,  and  so  I  came 
away.  There  is  certainly  something  to  ponder  over  in  this 
man's  state.  Several  points  seem  to  make  what  the  Amer- 
ican interviewer  calls  "a  story,"  if  one  could  only  get  them 
in  proper  order.  Here  they  are : — 

Will  not  mention  "drinking." 

Fears  the  thought  of  being  burdened  with  the  "soul"  of 

Has  no  dread  of  wanting  "life"  m  the  future. 


Despises  the  meaner  forms  of  life  altogether,  though  he 
dreads  being  haunted  by  their  souls. 

Logically  all  these  things  point  one  way !  he  has  assur- 
ance of  some  kind  that  he  will  acquire  some  higher  life.  He 
dreads  the  consequence — ^the  burden  of  a  soul.  Then  it  is  a 
human  life  he  looks  to ! 

And  the  assurance — ? 

Merciful  God !  the  Count  has  been  to  him,  and  there  is 
some  new  scheme  of  terror  afoot ! 

Later. — I  went  after  my  round  to  Van  Helsing  and  told 
him  my  suspicion.  He  grew  very  grave  ;•  and,  after  think- 
ing the  matter  over  for  a  while  asked  me  to  take  him  to 
Renfield.  I  did  so.  As  we  came  to  the  door  we  heard  the 
lunatic  within  singing  gaily,  as  he  used  to  do  in  the  time 
which  now  seems  so  long  ago.  When  we  entered  we  saw 
with  amazement  that  he  had  spread  out  his  sugar  as  of 
old ;  the  flies,  lethargic  with  the  autumn,  were  beginning  to 
buzz  into  the  room.  We  tried  to  make  him  talk  of  the  sub- 
ject of  our  previous  conversation,  but  he  would  not  attend. 
He  went  on  with  his  singing,  just  as  though  we  had  not 
been  present.  He  had  got  a  scrap  of  paper  and  was  folding 
it  into  a  note-book.  We  had  to  come  away  as  ignorant  as 
we  went  in. 

His  is  a  curious  case  indeed;  we  must  watch  him  to- 

Letter,  Mitchell,  Sons  and  Candy  to  Lord  Godalming, 

''i  October. 
"My  Lord, 

"We  are  at  all  times  only  too  happy  to  meet  your  wishes. 
We  beg,  with  regard  to  the  desire  of  your  Lordship,  ex- 
pressed by  Mr.  Harker  on  your  behalf,  to  supply  the  fol- 
lowing information  concerning  the  sale  and  purchase  of 
No.  347,  Piccadilly.  The  original  vendors  are  the  execu- 
tors of  the  late  Mr.  Archibald  Winter-Suffield.  The  pur- 
chaser is  a  foreign  nobleman.  Count  de  Ville,  who  effected 
the  purchase  himself  paying  the  purchase  money  in  notes 
*over  the  counter,'  if  your  Lordship  will  pardon  us  using 


so  vulgar  an  expression.  Beyond  this  we  know  nothing 
whatever  of  him. 

"We  are,  my  Lord, 

*'Your  Lordship's  humble  servants, 

"Mitchell,  Sons  &:  Candy." 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

2  October. — I  placed  a  man  in  the  corridor  last  night, 
and  told  him  to  make  an  accurate  note  of  any  sound  he 
might  hear  from  Renfield's  room,  and  gave  him  instruc- 
tions that  if  there  should  be  anything  strange  he  was  to 
call  me.  After  dinner,  when  we  had  all  gathered  round  the 
fire  in  the  study — Mrs.  Harker  having  gone  to  bed — we 
discussed  the  attempts  and  discoveries  of  the  day.  Harker 
was  the  only  one  who  had  any  result,  and  we  are  in  great 
hopes  that  his  clue  may  be  an  important  one. 

Before  going  to  bed  I  went  round  to  the  patient's  room 
and  looked  in  through  the  observation  trap.  He  was  sleeps 
ing  soundly,  and  his  heart  rose  and  fell  with  regular  respi- 

This  morning  the  man  on  duty  reported  to  me  that  a 
little  after  midnight  he  was  restless  and  kept  saying  his 
prayers  somewhat  loudly.  I  asked  him  if  that  was  all;  he 
replied  that  it  was  all  he  heard.  There  was  something 
about  his  manner  so  suspicious  that  I  asked  him  point 
blank  if  he  had  been  asleep.  He  denied  sleep,  but  admitted 
to  having  "dozed"  for  a  while.  It  is  too  bad  that  men  can- 
not be  trusted  unless  they  are  watched. 

To-day  Harker  is  out  following  up  his  clue,  and  Art  and 
Quincey  are  looking  after  horses.  Godalming  thinks  that  it 
will  be  well  to  have  horses  always  in  readiness,  for  when 
we  get  the  information  which  we  seek  there  will  be  no  time 
to  lose.  We  must  sterilise  all  the  imported  earth  between 
sunrise  and  sunset ;  we  shall  thus  catch  the  Count  at  his 
weakest,  and  without  a  refuge  to  fly  to.  Van  Helsing  is  off 
to  the  British  Museum  looking  up  some  authorities  on 
ancient  medicine.  The  old  physicians  took  account  of  things 
which  their  followers  do  not  accept,  and  the  Professor  is 

302  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

searching  for  witch  and  demon  cures  which  may  be  useful 
to  us  later. 

I  sometimes  think  we  must  be  all  mad  and  that  we  shall 
wake  to  sanity  in  strait-waistcoats. 

Later. — We  have  met  again.  We  seem  at  last  to  be  on 
the  track,  and  our  work  of  to-morrow  may  be  the  begin- 
ning of  the  end.  I  wonder  if  Renfield's  quiet  has  anything 
to  do  with  this.  His  moods  have  so  followed  the  doings  of 
the  Count,  that  the  coming  destruction  of  the  monster 
may  be  carried  to  him  in  some  subtle  way.  If  we  could  only 
get  some  hint  as  to  what  passed  in  his  mind,  between  the 
time  of  my  argument  with  him  to-day  and  his  resumption 
of  fly-catching,  it  might  afford  us  a  valuable  clue.  He  is 

now  seeming  quiet  for  a  spell.   ...   Is  he  ? That  wild 

yell  seemed  to  come  from  his  room.   .   .   . 

The  attendant  came  bursting  into  my  room  and  told  me 
that  Renfield  had  somehow  met  with  some  accident.  He 
had  heard  him  yell ;  and  when  he  went  to  him  found  him 
lying  on  his  face  on  the  floor,  all  covered  with  blood.  T 
must  go  at  once.  .  .  . 

DR.  Seward's  diary 

5  October. — Let  me  put  down  with  exactness  all  that 
happened,  as  well  as  I  can  remember  it,  since  last  I  made 
an  entry.  Not  a  detail  that  I  can  recall  must  be  forgotten ; 
in  all  calmness  I  must  proceed. 

When  I  came  to  Renfield's  room  I  found  him  lying  on 
the  floor  on  his  left  side  in  a  glittering  pool  of  blood.  When 
I  went  to  move  him,  it  became  at  once  apparent  that  he 
had  received  some  terrible  injuries ;  there  seemed  none  of 
that  unity  of  purpose  between  the  parts  of  the  body  which 
marks  even  lethargic  sanity.  As  the  face  was  exposed  I 
could  see  that  it  was  horribly  bruised,  as  though  it  had 
been  beaten  against  the  floor — indeed  it  was  from  the  face 
wounds  that  the  pool  of  blood  originated.  The  attendant 
who  was  kneeling  beside  the  body  said  to  me  as  we  turned 
him  over : — 

**I  think,  sir,  his  back  is  broken.  See,  both  his  right  arm 
and  leg  and  the  whole  side  of  his  face  are  paralysed."  How 
such  a  thing  could  have  happened  puzzled  the  attendant 
beyond  measure.  He  seemed  quite  bewildered,  and  his 
brows  were  gathered  in  as  he  said : — ■ 

"I  can't  understand  the  two  things.  He  could  mark  his 
face  like  that  by  beating  his  own  head  on  the  floor.  I  sav/ 
a  young  woman  do  it  once  at  the  Eversfield  Asylum  be- 
fore anyone  could  lay  hands  on  her.  And  I  suppose  he 
might  have  broke  his  neck  by  falling  out  of  bed,  if  he  got 
in  an  awkward  kink.  But  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't  imagine 
how  the  two  things  occurred.  If  his  back  was  broke,  he 
couldn't  beat  his  head ;  and  if  his  face  was  like  that  before 
the  fall  out  of  bed,  there  would  be  marks  of  it."  I  said  to 
him : — 

*'Go  to  Dr.  Van  Helsing,  and  ask  him  to  kindly  come 


304  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

here  at  once.  I  want  him  without  an  instant's  delay."  The 
man  ran  off,  and  within  a  few  minutes  the  Professor,  in 
his  dressing  gown  and  shppers,  appeared.  When  he  saw 
Renfield  on  the  ground,  he  looked  keenly  at  him  a  moment, 
and  then  turned  to  me.  I  think  he  recognised  my  thought  in 
my  eyes,  for  he  said  very  quietly,  manifestly  for  the  ears 
of  the  attendant : — 

*'Ah,  a  sad  accident!  He  will  need  very  careful  watch- 
ing, and  much  attention.  I  shall  stay  with  you  myself ;  but 
I  shall  first  dress  myself.  If  you  will  remain  I  shall  in  a 
few  minutes  join  you." 

The  patient  was  now  breathing  stertorously  and  it  was 
easy  to  see  that  he  had  suffered  some  terrible  injury.  Van 
Helsing  returned  with  extraordinary  celerity,  bearing  with 
him  a  surgical  case.  He  had  evidently  been  thinking  and 
had  his  mind  made  up ;  for,  almost  before  he  looked  at  the 
patient,  he  whispered  to  me : — 

"Send  the  attendant  away.  We  must  be  alone  with  him 
when  he  becomes  conscious,  after  the  operation."  So  I 
said : — 

"I  think  that  will  do  now,  Simmons.  We  have  done  all 
that  we  can  at  present.  You  had  better  go  your  round,  and 
Dr.  Van  Helsing  will  operate.  Let  me  know  instantly  if 
there  be  anything  unusual  anywhere." 

The  man  withdrew,  and  we  went  into  a  strict  examina- 
tion of  the  patient.  The  wounds  of  the  face  were  super- 
ficial ;  the  real  injury  was  a  depressed  fracture  of  the  skull, 
extending  right  up  through  the  motor  area.  The  Professor 
thought  a  moment  and  said  : — 

''We  must  reduce  the  pressure  and  get  back  to  normal 
conditions,  as  far  as  can  be;  the  rapidity  of  the  suffusion 
shows  the  terrible  nature  of  his  injury.  The  whole  motor 
area  seems  affected.  The  suffusion  of  the  brain  will  in- 
crease quickly,  so  we  must  trephine  at  once  or  it  may  be 
too  late."  As  he  was  speaking  there  was  a  soft  tapping  at 
the  door.  I  went  over  and  opened  it  and  found  in  the  cor- 
ridor without,  Arthur  and  Quincey  in  pajamas  and  slip- 
pers :  the  former  spoke : — 

'T  heard  your  man  call  up  Dr.  Van  Helsing  and  tell  him 
of  an  accident.  So  I  woke  Quincey  or  rather  called  for  him 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  305 

as  he  was  not  asleep.  Things  are  moving  too  quickly  and 
too  strangely  for  sound  sleep  for  any  of  us  these  times. 
I've  been  thinking  that  to-morrow  night  will  not  see  things 
as  they  have  been.  We'll  have  to  look  back — and  forward 
a  little  more  than  we  have  done.  May  we  come  in  ?"  I  nod- 
ded, and  held  the  door  open  till  they  had  entered ;  then  I 
closed  it  again.  When  Quincey  saw  the  attitude  and  state 
of  the  patient,  and  noted  the  horrible  pool  on  the  floor,  he 
said  softly : — 

"My  God!  what  has  happened  to  him?  Poor,  poor 
devil !"  I  told  him  briefly,  and  added  that  we  expected  he 
would  recover  consciousness  after  the  operation — for  a 
short  time,  at  all  events.  He  went  at  once  and  sat  down  on 
the  edge  of  the  bed,  with  Godalming  beside  him;  we  all 
watched  in  patience. 

"We  shall  wait,"  said  Van  Helsing,  "just  long  enough 
to  fix  the  best  spot  for  trephining,  so  that  we  may  most 
quickly  and  perfectly  remove  the  blood  clot;  for  it  is  evi- 
dent that  the  hsemorrhage  is  increasing." 

The  minutes  during  which  we  waited  passed  with  fear- 
ful slowness.  I  had  a  horrible  sinking  in  my  heart,  and 
from  Van  Helsing's  face  I  gathered  that  he  felt  some  fear 
or  apprehension  as  to  what  was  to'  come.  I  dreaded  the 
words  that  Renfield  might  speak.  I  was  positively  afraid 
to  think;  but  the  conviction  of  what  was  coming  was  on 
me,  as  I  have  read  of  men  who  have  heard  the  death- 
watch.  The  poor  man's  breathing  came  in  uncertain  gasps. 
Each  instant  he  seemed  as  though  he  would  open  his  eyes 
and  speak;  but  then  would  follow  a  prolonged  stertorous 
breath,  and  he  would  relapse  into  a  more  fixed  insensi- 
bility. Inured  as  I  was  to  sick  beds  and  death,  this  suspense 
grew,  and  grew  upon  me.  I  could  almost  hear  the  beating 
of  my  own  heart ;  and  the  blood  surging  through  my  tem- 
ples sounded  like  blows  from  a  hammer.  The  silence  finally 
became  agonising.  I  looked  at  my  companions,  one  after 
another,  and  saw  from  their  flushed  faces  and  damp  brows 
that  they  were  enduring  equal  torture.  There  was  a  nerv- 
ous suspense  over  us  all,  as  though  overhead  some  dread 
bell  would  peal  out  powerfully  when  we  should  least  expect 

go6  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

At  last  there  came  a  time  when  it  was  evident  that  the 
patient  was  sinking  fast;  he  might  die  at  any  moment..! 
looked  up  at  the  Professor  and  caught  his  eyes  fixed  on 
mine.  His  face  was  sternly  set  as  he  spoke : — 

"There  is  no  time  to  lose.  His  words  may  be  worth  many 
lives ;  I  have  been  thinking  so,  as  I  stood  here.  It  may  be 
there  is  a  soul  at  stake !  We  shall  operate  just  above  the 

Without  another  word  he  made  the  operation.  For  a  few 
moments  the  breathing  continued  to  be  stertorous.  Then 
there  came  a  breath  so  prolonged  that  it  seemed  as  though 
it  would  tear  open  his  chest.  Suddenly  his  eyes  opened, 
and  became  fixed  in  a  wild,  helpless  stare.  This  was  contin- 
ued for  a  few  moments ;  then  it  softened  into  a  glad  sur- 
prise, and  from  the  lips  came  a  sigh  of  relief.  He  moved 
convulsively,  and  as  he  did  so,  said  : — 

*T'll  be  quiet.  Doctor.  Tell  them  to  take  off  the  strait- 
waistcoat.  I  have  had  a  terrible  dream,  and  it  has  left  me 
so  weak  that  I  cannot  move.  What's  wrong  with  my  face  ? 
it  feels  all  swollen,  and  it  smarts  dreadfully."  He  tried  to 
turn  his  head ;  but  even  wnth  the  effort  his  eyes  seemed  to 
grow  glassy  again  so.  I  gently  put  it  back.  Then  Van  Hel- 
sing  said  in  a  quiet  grave  tone : — 

''Tell  us  your  dream,  Mr.  Renfield."  As  he  heard  the 
voice  his  face  brightened,  through  its  mutilation,  and  he 
said : — 

"That  is  Dr.  Van  Helsing.  How  good  it  is  of  you  to  be 
here.  Give  me  some  water,  my  lips  are  dry ;  and  I  shall 
try  to  tell  you.  I  dreamed" — ^lie  stopped  and  seemed  faint- 
ing, I  called  quietly  to  Quincey — 'The  brandy — it  is  in  my 
study--quick !"  He  flew  and  returned  with  a  glass,  the  de- 
canter of  brandy  and  a  carafe  of  water.  We  moistened  the 
parched  lips,  and  the  patient  quickly  revived.  It  seemed, 
however,  that  his  poor  injured  brain  had  been  working  in 
the  interval,  for,  when  he  was  quite  conscious,  he  looked  at 
me  piercingly  with  an  agonised  confusion  which  I  shall 
never  forget,  and  said  : — 

"I  must  not  deceive  myself ;  it  was  no  dream,  but  all  a 
grim  reality."  Then  his  eyes  roved  round  the  room ;  as  the}^ 

DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  307 

caught  sight  of  the  two  figures  sitting  patiently  on  the  edge 
of  the  bed  he  went  on : — 

"If  I  were  not  sure  already,  I  would  know  from  them/* 
For  an  instant  his  eyes  closed — not  with  pain  or  sleep  but 
voluntarily,  as  though  he  were  bringing  all  his  faculties  to 
bear ;  when  he  opened  them  he  said,  hurriedly,  and  with 
more  energy  than  he  had  yet  displayed : — 

''Quick,  Doctor,  quick.  I  am  dying !  I  feel  that  I  have  but 
a  few  minutes ;  and  then  I  must  go  back  to  death — or 
worse !  Wet  my  lips  with  brandy  again.  I  have  something 
that  I  must  say  before  I  die ;  or  before  my  poor  crushed 
brain  dies  anyhow.  Thank  you !  It  was  that  night  after  you 
left  me,  when  I  implored  you  to  let  me  go  away.  I  couldn't 
speak  then,  for  I  felt  my  tongue  was  tied ;  but  I  was  as 
sane  then,  except  in  that  way,  as  I  am  now.  I  was  in  an 
agony  of  despair  for  a  long  time  after  you  left  me ;  it 
seemed  hours.  Then  there  came  a  sudden  peace  to  me.  My 
brain  seemed  to  become  cool  again,  and  I  realised  where  I 
was.  I  heard  the  dogs  bark  behind  our  house,  but  not 
where  He  was !"  As  he  spoke.  Van  Helsing's  eyes  never 
blinked,  but  his  hand  came  out  and  met  mine  and  gripped 
it  hard.  He  did  net,  however,  betray  himself ;  he  nodded 
slightly  and  said :  "Go  on,"  in  a  low  voice.  Renfield  pro- 
ceeded : — 

"He  came  up  to  the  window  in  the  mist,  as  I  had  seen 
him  often  before ;  but  he  was  solid  then — not  a  ghost,  and 
his  eyes  were  fierce  like  a  man's  when  angry.  He  was 
laughing  with  his  red  mouth ;  the  sharp  white  teeth  glinted 
in  the  moonlight  when  he  turned  to  look  back  over  the  belt 
of  trees,  to  where  the  dogs  were  barking.  I  wouldn't  ask 
him  to  come  in  at  first,  though  I  knew  he  wanted  to — just 
as  he  had  wanted  all  along.  Then  he  began  promising  me 
things — not  in  words  but  by  doing  them."  He  was  inter- 
rupted by  a  word  from  the  Professor : — 


"By  making  them  happen ;  just  as  he  used  to  send  in  the 
flies  when  the  sun  was  shining.  Great  big  fat  ones  with 
steel  and  sapphire  on  their  wings ;  and  big  moths,  in  the 
night,  with  skull  and  cross-bones  on  their  backs."  Van  Hel- 
sing  nodded  to  him  as  he  whispered  to  me  unconsciously : — 

3o8  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

*'The  Acherontia  Aitetropos  of  the  Sphinges — ^what  you 
call  the  'Death's-head  Moth'  ?"  The  patient  went  on  with- 
out stopping. 

"Then  he  began  to  whisper :  *Rats,  rats,  rats !  Hundreds, 
thousands,  millions  of  them,  and  every  one  a  life ;  and  dogs 
to  eat  them,  and  cats  too.  All  lives!  all  red  blood,  with 
years  of  life  in  it ;  and  not  merely  buzzing  flies !'  I  laughed 
at  him,  for  I  wanted  to  see  what  he  could  do.  Then  the 
dogs  howled,  away  beyond  the  dark  trees  in  His  house. 
He  beckoned  me  to  the  window.  I  got  up  and  looked  out, 
and  He  raised  his  hands,  and  seemed  to  call  out  without  us- 
ing any  words.  A  dark  mass  spread  over  the  grass,  com- 
ing on  like  the  shape  of  a  flame  of  fire ;  and  then  He  moved 
the  mist  to  the  right  and  left,  and  I  could  see  that  there 
vrere  thousands  of  rats  with  their  eyes  blazing  red — like 
His,  only  smaller.  He  held  up  his  hand,  and  they  all 
stopped ;  and  I  thought  he  seemed  to  be  saying :  *A11  these 
lives  will  I  give  you,  ay,  and  many  more  and  greater, 
through  countless  ages,  if  you  will  fall  down  and  worship 
me !'  And  then  a  red  cloud,  like  the  colour  of  blood,  seemed 
to  close  over  my  eyes ;  and  before  I  knew  what  I  was  do- 
ing, I  found  myself  opening  the  sash  and  saying  to  Him : 
'Come  in.  Lord  and  Master !'  The  rats  were  all  gone,  but 
He  slid  into  the  room  through  the  sash,  though  it  was  only 
open  an  inch  wide — just  as  the  Moon  herself  has  often 
come  in  through  the  tiniest  crack  and  has  stood  before  me 
in  all  her  size  and  splendour." 

His  voice  was  weaker,  so  I  moistened  his  lips  with  the 
brandy  again,  and  he  continued;  but  it  seemed  as  though 
his  memory  had  gone  on  working  in  the  interval  for  his 
story  was  further  advanced,  I  was  about  to  call  him  back 
to  the  point,  but  Van  Helsmg  whispered  to  me :  "Let  him 
go  on.  Do  not  interrupt  him ;  he  cannot  go  back,  and  maybe 
could  not  proceed  at  all  if  once  he  lost  the  thread  of  his 
thought."  He  proceeded: — 

"All  day  I  waited  to  hear  from  him,  but  he  did  not  send 
me  amthing,  not  even  a  blow-fly,  and  when  the  moon  got 
up  I  v/as  pretty  angry  with  him.  When  he  slid  in  through 
the  window,  though  it  was  shut,  and  did  not  even  knock,  I 
got  mad  with  him.  He  sneered  at  me,  and  his  white  face 

DR.     S  E  Vv'  A  R  D  '  S     DIARY  309 

looked  out  of  the  mist  with  his  red  eyes  gleaming,  and  he 
went  on  as  though  he  owned  the  whole  place,  and  I  was  no 
one.  He  didn't  even  smell  the  same  as  he  went  by  me.  I 
couldn't  hold  him.  I  thought  that,  somehow,  Mrs.  Harker 
had  come  into  the  room." 

The  two  men  sitting  on  the  bed  stood  up  and  came  over, 
standing  behind  him  so  that  he  could  not  see  them,  but 
where  they  could  hear  better.  They  were  both  silent,  but 
the  Professor  started  and  quivered ;  his  face,  however, 
grew  grimmer  and  sterner  still.  Renfield  went  on  without 
noticing : — 

''When  Mrs.  Harker  came  in  to  see  me  this  afternoon 
she  wasn't  the  same ;  it  was  like  tea  after  the  teapot  had 
been  watered."  Here  we  all  moved,  but  no  one  said  a  word  ; 
he  went  on  : — 

'T  didn't  know  that  she  was  here  till  she  spoke ;  and  she 
didn't  look  the  same.  I  don't  care  for  the  pale  people;  I 
like  them  with  lots  of  blood  in  them,  and  hers  had  all 
seemed  to  have  run  out.  I  didn't  think  of  it  at  the  time ;  but 
when  she  went  away  I  began  to  think,  and  it  made  me  mad 
to  know  that  He  had  been  taking  the  life  out  of  her."  I 
could  feel  that  the  rest  quivered,  as  I  did,  but  we  remained 
otherwise  still.  "So  when  He  came  to-night  I  was  ready 
for  Him.  I  saw  the  mist  stealing  in,  and  I  grabbed  it  tight. 
I  had  heard  that  madmen  have  unnatural  strength ;  and  as 
I  knew  I  was  a  madman — at  times  anyhow — I  resolved  to 
use  my  power.  Ay,  and  He  felt  it  too.  for  He  had  to  come 
out  of  the  mist  to  struggle  with  me.  I  held  tight;  and  I 
thought  I  was  going  to  win,  for  I  didn't  mean  Him  to  take 
any  more  of  her  life,  till  I  saw  His  eyes.  They  burned  into 
me,  and  my  strength  became  like  water.  He  slipped  through 
it,  and  when  I  tried  to  cling  to  Him,  He  raised  me  up  and 
flung  me  down.  There  was  a  red  cloud  before  me,  and  a 
noise  like  thunder,  and  the  mist  seemed  to  steal  away  under 
the  door."  His  voice  was  becoming  fainter  and  his  breath 
more  stertorous.  Van  Helsing  stood  up  instinctively. 

"We  know  the  worst  now,"  he  said.  "He  is  here,  and  we 
know  his  purpose.  It  may  not  be  too  late.  Let  us  be  armed 
— the  same  as  we  were  the  other  night,  but  lose  no  time ; 
there  is  not  an  instant  to  spare."  There  was  no  need  to  put 

3io  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

our  fear,  nay  our  conviction,  into  words — we  shared  them 
in  common.  We  all  hurried  and  took  from  our  rooms  the 
same  things  that  we  had  when  we  entered  the  Count's 
house.  The  Professor  had  his  ready,  and  as  we  met  in  the 
corridor  he  pointed  to  them  significantly  as  he  said : — 

"They  never  leave  me ;  and  they  shall  not  till  this  un- 
happy business  is  over.  Be  wise  also,  my  friends.  It  is  no 
common  enemy  that  we  deal  with.  Alas !  alas !  that  that 
dear  Madam  Mina  should  suffer!"  He  stopped;  his  voice 
was  breaking,  and  I  do  not  know  if  rage  or  terror  pre- 
dominated in  my  own  heart. 

Outside  the  Harkers'  door  we  paused.  Art  and  Quincey 
held  back,  and  the  latter  said : — 

"Should  we  disturb  her?" 

"We  must,"  said  Van  Helsing  grimly.  "If  the  door  be 
locked,  I  shall  break  it  in." 

"May  it  not  frighten  her  terribly?  It  is  unusual  to  break 
into  a  lady's  room !"  Van  Helsing  said  solemnly. 

"You  are  always  right;  but  this  is  life  and  death.  All 
chambers  are  alike  to  the  doctor ;  and  even  were  they  not 
they  are  all  as  one  to  me  to-night.  Friend  John,  when  I 
turn  the  handle,  if  the  door  does  not  open,  do  you  put  your 
shoulder  down  and  shove ;  and  you  too,  my  friends.  Now !" 

He  turned  the  handle  as  he  spoke,  but  the  door  did  not 
yield.  W^e  threw  ourselves  against  it ;  with  a  crash  it  burst 
open,  and  we  almost  fell  headlong  into  the  room.  The  Pro- 
fessor did  actually  fall,  and  I  saw  across  him  as  he  gath- 
ered himself  up  from  hands  and  knees.  What  I  saw  ap- 
palled me.  I  felt  my  hair  rise  like  bristles  on  the  back  of  my 
neck,  and  my  heart  seemed  to  stand  still. 

The  moonlight  was  so  bright  that  through  the  thick  yel- 
low blind  the  room  was  light  enough  to  see.  On  the  bed 
beside  the  window  lay  Jonathan  Harker,  his  face  flushed 
and  breathing  heavily  as  though  in  a  stupor.  Kneeling  on 
the  near  edge  of  the  bed  facing  outwards  was  the  white- 
clad  figure  of  his  wife.  By  her  side  stood  a  tall,  thin  man, 
clad  in  black.  His  face  was  turned  from  us,  but  the  instant 
we  saw  all  recognised  the  Count — in  every  way,  even 
to  the  scar  on  his  forehead.  With  his  left  hand  he  held  both 
Mrs.  Harker's  hands,  keeping  them  away  with  her  arms 

DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  311 

at  full  tension ;  his  right  hand  gripped  her  by  the  back  of 
the  neck,  forcing  her  face  down  on  his  bosom.  Her  white 
nightdress  was  smeared  with  blood,  and  a  thin  stream 
trickled  down  the  man's  bare  breast  which  was  shown  by 
his  torn-open  dress.  The  attitude  of  the  two  had  a  terrible 
resemblance  to  a  child  forcing  a  kitten's  nose  into  a  sau- 
cer of  milk  to  compel  it  to  drink.  As  we  burst  into  the 
room,  the  Count  turned  his  face,  and  the  hellish  look  that 
I  had  heard  described  seemed  to  leap  into  it.  His  eyes 
flamed  red  with  devilish  passion ;  the  great  nostrils  of  the 
white  aquiline  nose  opened  wide  and  quivered  at  the  edge ; 
and  the  white  sharp  teeth,  behind  the  full  lips  of  the  blood- 
dripping  mouth,  champed  together  like  those  of  a  wild 
beast.  With  a  wrench,  which  threw  his  victim  back  upon 
the  bed  as  though  hurled  from  a  height,  he  turned  and 
sprang  at  us.  But  by  this  time  the  Professor  had  gained  his 
feet,  and  was  holding  towards  him  the  envelope  which  con- 
tained the  Sacred  Wafer.  The  Count  suddenly  stopped, 
just  as  poor  Lucy  had  done  outside  the  tomb,  and  cowered 
back.  Further  and  further  back  he  cowered,  as  we,  lifting 
our  crucifixes,  advanced.  The  moonlight  suddenly  failed, 
as  a  great  black  cloud  sailed  across  the  sky ;  and  when  the 
gaslight  sprang  up  under  Quincey's  match,  we  saw  nothing 
but  a  faint  vapour.  This,  as  we  looked,  trailed  under  the 
door,  which  with  the  recoil  from  its  bursting  open,  had 
swung  back  to  its  old  position.  Van  Helsing,  Art,  and  T 
moved  forward  to  Mrs.  Harker,  who  by  this  time  had 
drawn  her  breath  and  with  it  had  given  a  scream  so  wild, 
so  ear-piercing,  so  despairing  that  it  seems  to  me  now  that 
it  will  ring  in  my  ears  till  my  dying  day.  For  a  few  sec- 
onds she  lay  in  her  helpless  attitude  and  disarray.  Her  face 
was  ghastly,  with  a  pallor  which  was  accentuated  by  the 
blood  which  smeared  her  lips  and  cheeks  and  chin ;  from 
her  throat  trickled  a  thin  stream  of  blood ;  her  eyes  were 
mad  with  terror.  Then  she  put  before  her  face  her  poor 
crushed  hands,  which  bore  on  their  whiteness  the  red  mark 
of  the  Count's  terrible  grip,  and  from  behind  them  came  a 
low  desolate  wail  which  made  the  terrible  scream  seem  only 
the  quick  expression  of  an  endless  grief.  Van  Helsing 
stepped  forward  and  drew  the  coverlet  gently  over  her 


body,  whilst  Art,  after  looking  at  her  face  for  an  instant 
despairingly,  ran  out  of  the  room.  Van  Helsing  whispered 
to  me : — 

"Jonathan  is  in  a  stupor  such  as  we  know  the  Vampire 
can  produce.  We  can  do  nothing  with  poor  Madam  Mina 
for  a  few  moments  till  she  recovers  herself  ;  I  must  wake 
him !"  He  dipped  the  end  of  a  towel  in  cold  water  and  with 
it  began  to  flick  him  on  the  face,  his  wife  all  the  while  hold- 
ing her  face  between  her  hands  and  sobbing  in  a  way  that 
was  heart-breaking  to  hear.  I  raised  the  blind,  and  looked 
out  of  the  window.  There  was  much  moonshine ;  and  as  I 
looked  I  could  see  Ouincey  Morris  run  across  the  lawn 
and  hide  himself  in  the  shadow  of  a  great  yew-tree.  It  puz- 
zled me  to  think  why  he  was  doing  this ;  but  at  the  instant 
I  heard  Harker's  quick  exclamation  as  he  woke  to  partial 
consciousness,  and  turned  to  the  bed.  On  his  face,  as  there 
might  well  be,  was  a  look  of  wild  amazement.  He  seemed 
dazed  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  full  consciousness  seemed 
to  burst  upon  him  all  at  once,  and  he  started  up.  His  wife 
was  aroused  by  the  quick  movement,  and  turned  to  him 
with  her  arms  stretched  out,  as  though  to  embrace  him ;  in- 
stantly, however,  she  drew  them  in  again,  and  putting  her 
elbows  together,  held  her  hands  before  her  face,  and  shud- 
dered till  the  bed  beneath  her  shook. 

*Tn  God's  name  what  does  this  mean?"  Harker  cried 
out.  "Dr.  Seward,  Dr.  Van  Helsing,  what  is  it?  What  has 
happened?  What  is  wrong?  Mina,  dear,  what  is  it?  What 
does  that  blood  mean  ?  My  God,  my  God !  has  it  come  to 
this !"  and,  raising  himself  to  his  knees,  he  beat  his  hands 
wildly  together.  "Good  God  help  us !  help  her !  oh,  help 
her!"  With  a  quick  movement  he  jumped  from  bed,  and 
began  to  pull  on  his  clothes, — all  the  man  in  him  awake  at 
the  need  for  instant  exertion.  "What  has  happened?  Tell 
me  all  about  it!"  he  cried  without  pausing.  "Dr.  Van  Hel- 
sing, you  love  Mina,  I  know.  Oh,  do  something  to  save 
her.  It  cannot  haA^e  gone  too  far  yet.  Guard  her  while  I 
look  for  him!"  His  wife,  through  her  terror  and  horror 
and  distress,  saw  some  sure  danger  to  him :  instantly  for- 
getting her  own  grief,  she  seized  hold  of  him  and  cried 
out  •■■ — 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  315 

"No!  no!  Jonathan,  you  must  not  leave  me.  I  have  suf- 
fered enough  to-night,  God  knows,  without  the  dread  of 
his  harming  you.  You  must  stay  with  me.  Stay  with  these 
friends  who  will  watch  over  you  I"  Her  expression  became 
frantic  as  she  spoke;  and,  he  yielding  to  her,  she  pulled 
him  down  sitting  on  the  bed  side,  and  clung  to  him  fiercely. 

Van  Helsing  and  I  tried  to  calm  them  both.  The  Pro- 
fessor held  up  his  little  golden  crucifix,  and  said  with  won- 
derful calmness : — 

"Do  not  fear,  my  dear.  We  are  here ;  and  whilst  this  is 
close  to  you  no  foul  thing  can  approach.  You  are  safe  for 
to-night ;  and  we  must  be  calm  and  take  counsel  together." 
She  shuddered  and  was  silent,  holding  down  her  head  on 
her  husband's  breast.  When  she  raised  it,  his  white  night- 
robe  was  stained  with  blood  where  her  lips  had  touched, 
and  where  the  thin  open  wound  in  her  neck  had  sent  forth 
drops.  The  instant  she  saw  it  she  drew  back,  with  a  low 
wail,  and  whispered,  amidst  choking  sobs : — 

"Unclean,  unclean !  I  must  touch  him  or  kiss  him  no 
more.  Oh,  that  it  should  be  that  it  is  I  who  am  now  his 
worst  enemy,  and  whom  he  may  have  most  cause  to  fear." 
To  this  he  spoke  out  resolutely : — 

"Nonsense,  Mina.  It  is  a  shame  to  me  to  hear  such  a 
word.  I  would  not  hear  it  of  you;  and  I  shall  not  hear  it 
from  you.  May  God  judge  me  by  my  deserts,  and  punish 
me  with  more  bitter  suffering  than  even  this  hour,  if  by 
any  act  or  will  of  mine  anything  ever  come  between  us!" 
He  put  out  his  arms  and  folded  her  to  his  breast ;  and  for  a 
while  she  lay  there  sobbing.  He  looked  at  us  over  her 
bowed  head,  with  eyes  that  blinked  damply  above  his  quiv- 
ering nostrils ;  his  mouth  was  set  as  steel.  After  a  while 
her  sobs  became  less  frequent  and  more  faint,  and  then  he 
said  to  me,  speaking  with  a  studied  calmness  which  I  felt 
tried  his  nervous  power  to  the  utmost : — 

"And  now.  Dr.  Seward,  tell  me  all  about  it.  Too  well  I 
know  the  broad  fact ;  tell  me  all  that  has  been."  I  told  him 
exactly  what  had  happened,  and  he  listened  with  seeming 
impassiveness ;  but  his  nostrils  twitched  and  his  eyes  blazed 
as  I  told  how  the  ruthless  hands  of  the  Count  had  held  his 
wife  in  that  terrible  and  horrid  position,  with  her  mouth 

314  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

to  the  open  wound  in  his  breast.  It  interested  me,  even  at 
that  moment,  to  see,  that,  whilst  the  face  of  white  set 
passion  worked  convulsively  over  the  bowed  head,  the 
hands  tenderly  and  lovingly  stroked  the  ruffled  hair.  Just 
as  I  had  finished,  Quincey  and  Godalming  knocked  at  the 
door.  They  entered  in  obedience  to  our  summons.  Van 
Helsing  looked  at  me  questioningly.  I  understood  him  to 
mean  if  we  were  to  take  advantage  of  their  coming  to  di- 
vert if  possible  the  thoughts  of  the  unhappy  husband  and 
wife  from  each  other  and  from  themselves ;  so  on  nodding 
acquiescence  to  him  he  asked  them  what  they  had  seen  or 
done.  To  which  Lord  Godalming  answered : — 

'T  could  not  see  him  anywhere  in  the  passage,  or  in  any 
of  our  rooms.  I  looked  in  the  study  but,  though  he  had  been 
there,  he  had  gone.  He  had,  however "  He  stopped  sud- 
denly, looking  at  the  poor  drooping  figure  on  the  bed.  Van 
Helsing  said  gravely  : — 

**Go  on,  friend  Arthur.  We  want  here  no  more  conceal- 
ments. Our  hope  now  is  in  knowing  all.  Tell  freely  ■"  So 
Art  went  on  : — 

"He  had  been  there,  and  though  it  could  only  have  been 
for  a  few  seconds,  he  made  rare  hay  of  the  place.  All  the 
manuscript  had  been  burned,  and  the  blue  flames  were 
flickering  amongst  the  white  ashes ;  the  cylinders  of  your 
phonograph  too  were  thrown  on  the  fire,  and  the  wax  had 
helped  the  flames."  Here  I  interrupted.  ''Thank  God  there 
is  the  other  copy  in  the  safe !"  His  face  lit  for  a  moment, 
but  fell  again  as  he  went  on :  "I  ran  downstairs  then,  but 
could  see  no  sign  of  him.  I  looked  into  Renfield's  room ; 

but  there  was  no  trace  there  except !"  Again  he  paused. 

*'Go  on,"  said  Harker  hoarsely;  so  he  bowed  his  head  and 
moistening  his  lips  with  his  tongue,  added :  "except  that 
the  poor  fellow  is  dead."  Mrs.  Harker  raised  her  head, 
looking  from  one  to  the  other  of  us  she  said  solemnly: — 

"God's  will  be  done !"  I  could  not  but  feel  that  Art  was 
keeping  back  something ;  but,  as  I  took  it  that  it  was  with  a 
purpose,  I  said  nothing.  \^an  Helsing  turned  to  Morris  and 
asked : — 

"And  you,  friend  Quincey,  have  you  any  to  tell  ?" 

"A  little,"  he  answered.  "It  may  be  much  eventually, 

DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY    •  315 

but  at  present  I  can't  say.  I  thought  it  well  to  know  if  pos- 
sible where  the  Count  would  go  when  he  left  the  house. 
I  did  not  see  him ;  but  I  saw  a  bat  rise  from  Renfield's 
window,  and  flap  westward.  I  expected  to  see  him  in  some 
shape  go  back  to  Carfax ;  but  he  evidently  sought  some 
other  lair.  He  will  not  be  back  to-night ;  for  the  sky  is  red- 
dening in  the  east,  and  the  dawn  is  close.  We  must  work 
to-morrow !" 

He  said  the  latter  words  through  his  shut  teeth.  For  a 
space  of  perhaps  a  couple  of  minutes  there  was  silence,  and 
I  could  fancy  that  I  could  hear  the  sound  of  our  hearts 
beating ;  then  Van  Helsing  said,  placing  his  hand  very  ten- 
derly on  Mrs.  Harker's  head  : — 

"And  now,  Madam  Mina — poor,  dear,  dear  Madam 
Mina — tell  us  exactly  what  happened.  God  knows  that  I 
do  not  want  that  you  be  pained  ;  but  it  is  need  that  we  know 
all.  For  now  more  than  ever  has  all  work  to  be  done  quick 
and  sharp,  and  in  deadly  earnest.  The  day  is  close  to  us 
that  must  end  all,  if  it  may  be  so ;  and  now  is  the  chance 
that  we  may  live  and  learn." 

The  poor,  dear  lady  shivered,  and  I  could  see  the  tension 
of  her  nerves  as  she  clasped  her  husband  closer  to  her  and 
bent  her  head  lower  and  lower  still  on  his  breast.  Then  she 
raised  her  head  proudly,  and  held  out  one  hand  to  Van 
Helsing  who  took  it  in  his,  and,  after  stooping  and  kissing 
it  reverently,  held  it  fast.  The  other  hand  was  locked  in 
that  of  her  husband,  who  held  his  other  arm  thrown  round 
her  protectingly.  After  a  pause  in  which  she  was  evidently 
ordering  her  thoughts,  she  began  : — 

'T  took  the  sleeping  draught  which  you  had  so  kindly 
given  me,  but  for  a  long  time  it  did  not  act.  I  seemed  to 
become  more  wakeful,  and  myriads  of  horrible  fancies  be- 
gan to  crowd  in  upon  my  mind — all  of  them  connected 
with  death,  and  vampires ;  with  blood,  and  pain,  and  trou- 
ble." Her  husband  involuntarily  groaned  as  she  turned  to 
him  and  said  lovingly :  "Do  not  fret,  dear.  You  must  be 
brave  and  strong,  and  help  me  through  the  horrible  task. 
If  you  only  knew  what  an  effort  it  is  to  me  to  tell  of  this 
fearful  thing  at  all,  you  would  understand  how  much  I 
need  your  help.  Well,  I  saw  I  must  try  to  help  the  medi- 

3i6  DRACULA' 

cine  to  its  work  with  my  will,  if  it  was  to  do  me  any  good, 
so  I  resolutely  set  myself  to  sleep.  Sure  enough  sleep  must 
soon  have  come  to  me,  for  I  remember  no  more.  Jonathan 
coming  in  had  not  waked  me,  for  he  lay  by  my  side  when 
next  I  remember.  There  was  in  the  room  the  same  thin 
white  mist  that  I  had  before  noticed.  But  I  forget  now  if 
you  know  of  this  ;  you  will  find  it  in  my  diary  which  I  shall 
show  you  later.  I  felt  the  same  vague  terror  which  had 
come  to  me  before  and  the  same  sense  of  some  presence.  I 
turned  to  wake  Jonathan,  but  found  that  he  slept  so 
soundly  that  it  seemed  as  if  it  was  he  who  had  taken  the 
sleeping  draught,  and  not  I.  I  tried,  but  I  could  not  wake 
him.  This  caused  me  a  great  fear,  and  I  looked  around 
terrified.  Then  indeed,  my  heart  sank  within  me:  beside 
the  bed,  as  if  he  had  stepped  out  of  the  mist — or  rather 
as  if  the  mist  had  turned  into  his  figure,  for  it  had  entirely 
disappeared — stood  a  tall,  thin  man,  all  in  black.  I  knew 
him  at  once  from  the  description  of  the  others.  The  waxen 
face ;  the  high  aquiline  nose,  on  which  the  light  fell  in  a 
thin  white  line ;  the  parted  red  lips,  with  the  sharp  white 
teeth  showing  between ;  and  the  red  eyes  that  I  had  seemed 
to  see  in  the  sunset  on  the  windows  of  St.  Mary's  Church 
at  Whitby.  I  knew,  too,  the  red  scar  on  his  forehead  where 
Jonathan  had  struck  him.  For  an  instant  my  heart  stood 
still,  and  I  would  have  screamed  out,  only  that  I  was  para- 
lysed. In  the  pause  he  spoke  in  a  sort  of  keen,  cutting 
whisper,  pointing  as  he  spoke  to  Jonathan : — 

"'Silence!  If  you  make  a  sound  I  shall  take  him  and 
dash  his  brains  out  before  your  very  eyes.'  I  was  appalled 
and  was  too  bewildered  to  do  or  say  anything.  With  a 
mocking  smile,  he  placed  one  hand  upon  my  shoulder  and, 
holding  me  tight,  bared  my  throat  with  the  other,  saying 
as  he  did  so,  'First,  a  little  refreshment  to  reward  my  ex- 
ertions. You  may  as  well  be  quiet ;  it  is  not  the  first  time, 
or  the  second,  that  your  veins  have  appeased  my  thirst !'  I 
was  bewildered,  and,  strangely  enough,  I  did  not  want  to 
hinder  him.  I  suppose  it  is  a  part  of  the  horrible  curse  that 
such  is.  when  his  touch  is  on  his  victim.  And  oh,  my  God. 
my  God,  pity  me !  He  placed  his  reeking  lips  upon  my 
throat!''  H^r  husband  groaned  again.  She  clasped  his  hand 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  317 

harder,  and  looked  at  him  pityingly,  as  if  he  were  the  in- 
jured one,  and  went  on  : — 

**I  felt  my  strength  fading  away,  and  I  was  in  a  half 
swoon.  How  long  this  horrible  thing  lasted  I  know  not ;  but 
it  seemed  that  a  long  time  must  have  passed  before  he  took 
his  foul,  awful,  sneering  mouth  away.  I  saw  it  drip  with 
the  fresh  blood!"  The  remembrance  seemed  for  a  while  to 
overpower  her,  and  she  drooped  and  would  have  sunk 
down  but  for  her  husband's  sustaining  arm.  With  a  great 
effort  she  recovered  herself  and  went  on : — 

"Then  he  spoke  to  me  mockingly,  'And  so  you,  like  the 
others,  would  play  your  brains  against  mine.  You  would 
help  these  men  to  hunt  me  and  frustrate  me  in  my  designs ! 
You  know  now,  and  they  know  in  part  already,  and  will 
know  in  full  before  long,  what  it  is  to  cross  my  path. 
They  should  have  kept  their  energies  for  use  closer  to  home. 
Whilst  they  played  wits  against  me — against  me  who  com- 
manded nations,  and  intrigued  for  them,  and  fought  for 
them,  hundreds  of  years  before  they  were  born — I  was 
countermining  them.  And  you,  their  best  beloved  one,  are 
now  to  me,  flesh  of  m}^  flesh ;  blood  of  my  blood ;  kin  of 
my  kin ;  my  bountiful  wine-press  for  a  while ;  and  shall  be 
later  on  my  companion  and  my  helper.  You  shall  be 
avenged  in  turn ;  for  not  one  of  them  but  shall  minister  to 
your  needs.  But  as  yet  you  are  to  be  punished  for  what 
you  have  done.  You  have  aided  in  thwarting  me ;  now  you 
shall  come  to  my  call.  When  my  brain  says  "Come!"  to 
you,  you  shall  cross  land  or  sea  to  do  my  bidding;  and  to 
that  end  this !'  With  that  he  pulled  open  his  shirt,  and  with 
his  long  sharp  nails  opened  a  vein  in  his  breast.  When  the 
blood  began  to  spurt  out,  he  took  my  hands  in  one  of  his, 
holding  them  tight,  and  with  the  other  seized  my  neck  and 
pressed  my  mouth  to  the  wound,  so  that  I  must  either  suffo- 
cate or  swallow  some  of  the Oh  my  God !  my  God ! 

what  have  I  done?  What  have  I  done  to  deserve  such  a 
fate,  I  who  have  tried  to  walk  in  meekness  and  righteous- 
ness all  my  days.  God  pity  me !  Look  down  on  a  poor  soul 
in  worse  than  mortal  peril ;  and  in  mercy  pity  those  to 
whom  she  is  dear!"  Then  she  began  to  rub  her  lips  as 
though  to  cleanse  them  from  pollution. 


As  she  was  telling  her  terrible  story,  the  eastern  sky  be- 
gan to  quicken,  and  everything  became  more  and  more 
clear.  Harker  was  still  and  quiet ;  but  over  his  face,  as  the 
awful  narrative  went  on,  came  a  grey  look  which  deepened 
and  deepened  in  the  morning  light,  till  when  the  first  red 
streak  of  the  coming  dawn  shot  up,  the  flesh  stood  darkly 
ovt  against  the  whitening  hair. 

We  have  arranged  that  one  of  us  is  to  stay  within  call 
o(  the  unhappy  pair  till  we  can  meet  together  and  arrange 
about  taking  action. 

Of  this  I  am  sure :  the  sun  rises  to-day  on  no  more  mis- 
erable house  in  all  the  great  round  of  its  daily  course. 



J  October. — As  I  must  do  something  or  go  mad,  I  write 
this  diary.  It  is  now  six  o'clock,  and  we  are  to  meet  in  the 
study  in  half  an  hour  and  take  something  to  eat ;  for  Dr. 
Van  Helsing  and  Dr.  Seward  are  agreed  that  if  we  do  not 
eat  we  cannot  work  our  best.  Our  best  will  be,  God  knows, 
required  to-day.  I  must  keep  writing  at  every  chance,  for  I 
dare  not  stop  to  think.  All,  big  and  little,  must  go  down ; 
perhaps  at  the  end  the  little  things  may  teach  us  most. 
The  teaching,  big  or  little,  could  not  have  landed  Mina  or 
me  anywhere  worse  than  we  are  to-day.  However,  we  must 
trust  and  hope.  Poor  Mina  told  me  just  now,  with  the  tears 
running  down  her  dear  cheeks,  that  it  is  in  trouble  and 
trial  that  our  faith  is  tested — that  we  must  keep  on  trust- 
ing ;  and  that  God  will  aid  us  up  to  the  end.  The  end !  oh 
my  God !  what  end  ?   .   .    .   To  work !  To  work ! 

When  Dr.  Van  Helsing  and  Dr.  Seward  had  come  back 
from  seeing  poor  Renfield,  we  went  gravely  into  what  was 
to  be  done.  First,  Dr.  Seward  told  us  that  when  he  and  Dr. 
Van  Helsing  had  gone  down  to  the  room  below  they  had 
found  Renfield  lying  on  the  floor,  all  in  a  heap.  His  face 
was  all  bruised  and  crushed  in,  and  the  bones  of  the  neck 
were  broken. 

Dr.  Seward  asked  the  attendant  who  was  on  duty  in  the 
passage  if  he  had  heard  anything.  He  said  that  he  had  been 
sitting  down — he  confessed  to  half  dozing — when  he  heard 
loud  voices  in  the  room,  and  then  Renfield  had  called  out 
loudly  several  times,  "God!  God!  God!"  after  that  there 
was  a  sound  of  falling,  and  when  he  entered  the  room  he 
found  him  lying  on  the  floor,  face  down,  just  as  the  doc- 
tors had  seen  him.  Van  Helsing  asked  if  he  had  heard 
**voices"  or  "a  voice,"  and  he  said  he  could  not  say;  that 


320  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

at  first  it  had  seemed  to  him  as  if  there  were  two,  but  as 
there  was  no  one  in  the  room  it  could  have  been  only  one. 
He  could  swear  to  it,  if  required,  that  the  word  ''God" 
was  spoken  by  the  patient.  Dr.  Seward  said  to  us,  when 
we  were  alone,  that  he  did  not  wish  to  go  into  the  matter ; 
the  question  of  an  inquest  had  to  be  considered,  and  it 
would  never  do  to  put  forward  the  truth,  as  no  one  would 
believe  it.  As  it  was,  he  thought  that  on  the  attendant's 
evidence  he  could  give  a  certificate  of  death  by  misadven- 
ture in  falling  from  bed.  In  case  the  coroner  should  de- 
mand it,  there  would  be  a  formal  inquest,  necessarily  to 
the  same  result. 

When  the  question  began  to  be  discussed  as  to  what 
should  be  our  next  step,  the  very  first  thing  we  decided  was 
that  Mina  should  be  in  full  confidence ;  that  nothing  of  any 
sort — no  matter  how  painful — should  be  kept  from  her. 
She  herself  agreed  as  to  its  wisdom,  and  it  was  pitiful  to 
see  her  so  brave  and  yet  so  sorrowful,  and  in  such  a  depth 
of  despair.  "There  must  be  no  concealment,"  she  said, 
"Alas !  we  have  had  too  much  already.  And  besides  there  is 
nothing  in  all  the  world  that  can  give  me  more  pain  than  I 
have  already  endured — than  I  suffer  now !  Whatever  may 
happen,  it  must  be  of  new  hope  or  of  new  courage  to  me!" 
Van  Helsing  was  looking  at  her  fixedly  as  she  spoke,  and 
said,  suddenly  but  quietly  : — 

"But  dear  Madam  Mina,  are  you  not  afraid;  not  for 
yourself,  but  for  others  from  yourself,  after  what  has  hap- 
pened ?"  Her  face  grew  set  in  its  lines,  but  her  eyes  shone 
with  the  devotion  of  a  martyr  as  she  answered : — 

"Ah  no !  for  my  mind  is  made  up !" 

"To  what?"  he  asked  gently,  whilst  we  were  all  very 
still ;  for  each  in  our  ow^n  way  we  had  a  sort  of  vague 
idea  of  what  she  meant.  Her  answer  came  with  direct  sim- 
plicity, as  though  she  were  simply  stating  a  fact : — 

"Because  if  I  find  in  myself — and  I  shall  watch  keenly 
for  it — a  sign  of  harm  to  any  that  I  love,  I  shall  die !" 

"You  would  not  kill  yourself  ?"  he  asked,  hoarsely. 

"I  would ;  if  there  were  no  friend  who  loved  me,  who 
would  save  me  such  a  pain,  and  so  desperate  an  effort!" 
She  looked  at  him  meaningly  as  she  spoke.  He  was  sitting 

down ;  but  now  he  rose  and  came  close  to  her  and  put  his 
hand  on  her  head  as  he  said  solemnly : 

"My  child,  there  is  such  an  one  if  it  were  for  your  gooa 
For  myself  I  could  hold  it  in  my  account  with  God  to  tmcl 
such  an  euthanasia  for  you,  even  at  this  ^'T'''' 1^ ^Zt-"^- 

best.  Nay,  were  it  safe!  But  my  child ^    !"?' ^    ^^^t 

he  seemed  choked,  and  a  great  sob  rose  m  his  throat,  ne 
euloed  it  down  and  went  on : — 

'There  are  here  some  who  would  stand  between  you  and 
death.  You  must  not  die.  You  must  not  die  by  any  hana : 
but  least  of  all  by  your  own.  Until  the  other,  who  has 
fouled  your  sweet  Ufe,  is  true  dead  you  must  not  die ,  to. 
if  he  is  still  with  the  quick  Un-Dead,  your  death  would 
would  make  you  even  as  he  is.  No,  you  must  live!  You 
must  struggle  and  strive  to  live,  though  death  would  seem 
a    boon    unspeakable.    You    must    fight    Death    himselt 
thoudi  he  come  to  you  in  pain  or  m  joy;  by  the  day,  or 
he  night;  in  safety  or  in  peril!  On  your  Imng  soul  I 
charge  yoi  that  you  do  not  die-nay,  nor  thmk  of  death- 
tillthis  great  evil  be  past."  The  poor  dear  grew  white  as 
death,  and  shook  and  shivered,  as  I  have  seen  a  quicksand 
shake  and  shiver  at  the  incoming  of  the  tide.  We  were  all 
silent;  we  could  do  nothing.  At  length  she  grew  more 
calm  ^nd  turning  to  him  said,  sweetly,  but  oh!  so  sorrow- 
fully, as  she  held  out  her  hand :—  . ,  ^    ,      .„  ,  ^ 

-I  promise  you,  my  dear  friend,  that  if  God  will  let  me 
live,  I  shall  strive  to  do  so;  till,  if  it  may  be  m  His^good 
time  this  horror  may  have  passed  away  from  me.  bne 
was  so  good  and  brave  that  we  all  felt  that  our  hearts  were 
stren^hened  to  work  and  endure  for  her,  and  we  began  to 
discuss  what  we  were  to  do.  I  told  her  that  she  was  to  have 
all  the  papers  in  the  safe,  and  all  the  papers  or  diaries  and 
phonographs  we  might  hereafter  use ;  and  was  to  keep  the 
Record  as  she  had  done  before.  She  was  pleased  with  the 
prospect  of  anything  to  dc^if  "pleased"  could  be  used  m 
connection  with  so  grim  an  interest.  ^       ,       ^     . 

As  usual  Van  Helsing  had  thought  ahead  of  everyone. 
'Mse  and  was  prepared  with  an  exact  ordering  of  our  work. 
^  'Tt  is  perhaps  well,"  he  said,  ''that  at  our  meeting  after 
our  visit  to  Carfax  we  decided  not  to  do  anytnmg  with 

322  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

the  earth-boxes  that  lay  there.  Had  we  done  so,  the  Count 

must  have  guessed  our  purpose,  and  would  doubtless  have 
taken  measures  in  advance  to  frustrate  such  an  effort  with 
regard  to  the  others ;  but  now  he  does  not  know  our  inten- 
tions. Nay,  more,  in  all  probability,  he  does  not  know  that 
such  a  power  exists  to  us  as  can  sterilise  his  lairs,  so  that 
he  cannot  use  them  as  of  old.  We  are  now  so  much  fur- 
ther advanced  in  our  knowledge  as  to  their  disposition  that, 
when  we  have  examined  the  house  in  Piccadilly,  we  may 
track  the  very  last  of  them.  To-day,  then,  is  ours ;  and  in 
it  rests  our  hope.  The  sun  that  rose  on  our  sorrow  this 
morning  guards  us  in  its  course.  Until  it  sets  to-night,  that 
monster  must  retain  whatever  form  he  now  has.  He  is 
confined  within  the  limitations  of  his  earthly  envelope.  He 
cannot  melt  into  thin  air  nor  disappear  through  cracks  or 
chinks  or  crannies.  If  he  go  through  a  doorway,  he  must 
open  the  door  like  a  mortal.  And  so  we  have  this  day  to 
hunt  out  all  his  lairs  and  sterilise  them.  So  we  shall,  if  we 
have  not  yet  catch  him  and  destroy  him,  drive  him  to  bay 
in  some  place  where  the  catching  and  the  destroying  shall 
be,  in  time,  sure."  Here  I  started  up  for  I  could  not  con- 
tain myself  at  the  thought  that  the  minutes  and  seconds  so 
preciously  laden  with  INIina's  life  and  happiness  were  flying 
from  us,  since  whilst  we  talked  action  was  impossible.  But 
Van  Helsing  held  up  his  hand  warningly.  "Nay,  friend 
Jonathan,"  he  said,  ''in  this,  the  quickest  way  home  is  the 
longest  way,  so  your  proverb  say.  We  shall  all  act  and  act 
with  desperate  c|uick,  when  the  time  has  come.  But  think, 
in  all  probable  the  key  of  the  situation  is  in  that  house  in 
Piccadilly.  The  Count  may  have  many  houses  which  he  has 
bought.  Of  them  he  will  have  deeds  of  purchase,  keys  and 
other  things.  He  will  have  paper  that  he  write  on ;  he  will 
have  his  book  of  cheques.  There  are  many  belongings  that 
he  must  have  somewhere ;  why  not  in  this  place  so  central, 
so  quiet,  where  he  come  and  go  by  the  front  or  the  back 
at  all  hour,  when  in  the  very  vast  of  the  traffic  there  is  none 
to  notice.  We  shall  go  there  and  search  that  house ;  and 
when  we  learn  what  it  holds,  then  we  do  what  our  friend 
Arthur  call,  in  his  phrases  of  hunt  'stop  the  earths'  and  so 
we  run  down  our  old  fox — so  ?  is  it  not  ?" 


"Then  let  us  come  at  once,"  I  cried,  *'we  are  wasting  the 
precious,  precious  time!"  The  Professor  did  not  move,  but 
simply  said : — 

"And  how  are  we  to  get  into  that  house  in  Piccadilly?" 

"Any  way!"  I  cried.  "We  shall  break  in  if  need  be." 

"And  your  police ;  where  will  they  be,  and  what  will  they 
say  .^ 

I  was  staggered ;  but  I  knew  that  if  he  wished  to  delay 
he  had  a  good  reason  for  it.  So  I  said,  as  quietly  as  I 
could : — 

"Don't  wait  more  than  need  be;  you  know,  I  am  sure, 
what  torture  I  am  in." 

"Ah,  my  child,  that  I  do;  and  indeed  there  is  no  wish  of 
me  to  add  to  your  anguish.  But  just  think,  what  can  we  do, 
until  all  the  world  be  at  movement.  Then  will  come  our 
time.  I  have  thought  and  thought,  and  it  seems  to  me  that 
the  simplest  way  is  the  best  of  all.  Now  we  wish  to  get  into 
the  house,  but  we  have  no  key ;  is  it  not  so  ?"  I  nodded. 

"Now  suppose  that  you  were,  in  truth,  the  owner  of  that 
house,  and  could  not  still  get  it ;  and  think  there  was  to  you 
no  conscience  of  the  housebreaker,  what  would  you  do?" 

"I  should  get  a  respectable  locksmith,  and  set  him  to 
work  to  pick  the  lock  for  me." 

"And  your  police,  they  would  interfere,  would  they 

"Oh,  no!  not  if  they  knew  the  man  was  properly  em- 

"Then,"  he  looked  at  me  as  keenly  as  he  spoke,  "all  that 
is  in  doubt  is  the  conscience  of  the  employer,  and  the  belief 
of  your  policemen  as  to  whether  or  no  that  employer  has  a 
good  conscience  or  a  bad  one.  Your  police  must  indeed  be 
zealous  men  and  clever — oh,  so  clever! — in  reading  the 
heart,  that  they  trouble  themselves  in  such  matter.  No,  no, 
my  friend  Jonathan,  you  go  take  the  lock  off  a  hundred 
empty  house  in  this  your  London,  or  of  any  city  in  the 
world ;  and  if  you  do  it  as  such  things  are  rightly  done, 
and  at  the  time  such  things  are  rightly  done,  no  one  will 
interfere.  I  have  read  of  a  gentleman  who  owned  a  so 
line  house  in  London,  and  when  he  went  for  months  of 
summer  to  Switzerland  and  lock  up  his  house,  some  buf 

324  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

giar  came  and  broke  window  at  back  and  got  in.  Then  he 
went  and  made  open  the  shutters  in  front  and  walk  out  and 
in  through  the  door,  before  the  very  eyes  of  the  pohce. 
Then  he  have  an  auction  in  that  house,  and  advertised  it, 
and  put  up  big  notice ;  and  when  the  day  come  he  sell  off 
by  a  great  auctioneer  all  the  goods  of  that  other  man  who 
own  them.  Then  he  go  to  a  builder,  and  he  sell  him  that 
house,  making  an  agreement  that  he  pull  it  down  and 
take  all  away  within  a  certain  time.  And  your  police  and 
other  authority  help  him  all  they  can.  And  when  that  owner 
come  back  from  his  holiday  in  Switzerland  he  find  only  an 
empty  hole  where  his  house  had  been.  This  was  all  done 
en  regie;  and  in  our  work  we  shall  be  en  regie  too.  We 
shall  not  go  so  early  that  the  policemen  who  have  then  little 
to  think  of,  shall  deem  it  strange;  but  we  shall  go  after 
ten  o'clock,  when  there  are  many  about,  and  such  things 
would  be  done  were  we  indeed  owners  of  the  house." 

I  could  not  but  see  how  right  he  was  and  the  terrible 
despair  of  Mina's  face  became  relaxed  a  thought ;  there 
was  hope  in  such  good  counsel.  Van  Helsing  went  on : — 

^'When  once  within  that  house  we  may  find  more  clues ; 
at  any  rate  some  of  us  can  remain  there  whilst  the  rest 
find  the  other  places  where  there  be  more  earth-boxes — 
at  Bermondsey  and  Mile  End." 

Lord  Godalming  stood  up.  'T  can  be  of  some  use  here," 
he  said.  *T  shall  wire  to  my  people  to  have  horses  and 
^rriages  where  they  will  be  most  convenient." 

"Look  here,  old  fellow,"  said  Morris,  "it  is  a  capital  idea 
to  have  all  ready  in  case  we  want  to  go  horsebacking ;  but 
don't  you  think  that  one  of  your  snappy  carriages  with  its 
heraldic  adornments  in  a  byway  of  Walworth  or  Mile  End 
would  attract  too  much  attention  for  our  purposes?  It 
seems  to  me  that  we  ought  to  take  cabs  when  we  go  south 
or  east;  and  even  leave  them  somewhere  near  the  neigh- 
bourhood we  are  going  to." 

"Friend  Quincey  is  right !"  said  the  Professor.  "Hi>5 
head  is  what  you  call  in  plane  with  the  horizon.  It  is  a 
difiicult  thing  that  we  go  to  do,  and  we  do  not  want  no 
peoples  to  watch  us  if  so  it  may." 

Mina  took  a  growing  interest  in  everything  and  I  was 


rejoiced  to  see  that  the  exigency  of  affairs  was  helping 
her  to  forget  for  a  time  the  terrible  experience  of  the 
night.  She  was  very,  very  pale — almost  ghastly,  and  so 
thin  that  her  lips  were  drawn  away,  showing  her  teeth  in 
somewhat  of  prominence.  I  did  not  mention  this  last,  lest 
it  should  give  her  needless  pain;  but  it  made  my  blood 
run  cold  in  my  veins  to  think  of  what  had  occurred  with 
]X)or  Lucy  when  the  Count  had  sucked  her  blood.  As  yet 
there  was  no  sign  of  the  teeth  growing  sharper ;  but  the 
time  as  yet  was  short,  and  there  was  time  for  fear. 

When  we  came  to  the  discussion  of  the  sequence  of  our 
efforts  and  of  the  disposition  of  our  forces,  there  were 
new  sources  of  doubt.  It  was  finally  agreed  that  before 
starting  for  Piccadilly  we  should  destroy  the  Count's  lair 
close  at  hand.  In  case  he  should  find  it  out  too  soon,  we 
should  thus  be  still  ahead  of  him  in  our  work  of  destruc- 
tion ;  and  his  presence  in  his  purely  material  shape,  and  at 
his  weakest,  might  give  us  some  new  clue. 

As  to  the  disposal  of  forces,  it  was  suggested  by  the 
Professor  that,  after  our  visit  to  Carfax,  we  should  all 
enter  the  house  in  Piccadilly ;  that  the  two  doctors  and  I 
should  remain  there,  whilst  Lord  Godalming  and  Quincey 
found  the  lairs  at  Walworth  and  Mile  End  and  destroyed 
them.  It  was  possible,  if  not  likely,  the  Professor  urged, 
that  the  Count  might  appear  in  Piccadilly  during  the  day, 
and  that  if  so  we  might  be  able  to  cope  with  him  then  and 
there.  At  any  rate,  we  might  be  able  to  follow  him  in  force. 
To  this  plan  I  strenuously  objected,  and  so  far  as  my  going 
was  concerned,  for  I  said  that  I  intended  to  stay  and  pro- 
tect Mina,  I  thought  that  my  mind  was  made  up  on  the 
subject;  but  Mina  would  not  listen  to  my  objection.  She 
said  that  there  might  be  some  law  matter  in  which  I  could 
be  useful ;  that  amongst  the  Count's  papers  might  be  some 
clue  which  I  could  understand  out  of  my  experience  in 
Transylvania ;  and  that,  as  it  was,  all  the  strength  we  could 
muster  was  required  to  cope  with  the  Count's  extraor- 
dinary power.  I  had  to  give  in,  for  Mina's  resolution  was 
fixed ;  she  said  that  it  was  the  last  hope  for  her  that  we 
should  all  work  together.  "As  for  me,"  she  said,  "I  have 
no  fear.  Things  have  been  as  bad  as  they  can  be ;  and 

326  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

whatever  may  happen  must  have  in  it  some  element  of 
hope  or  comfort.  Go,  my  husband !  God  can,  if  He  wishes 
it,  guard  me  as  well  alone  as  with  any  one  present."  So  I 
started  up  crying  out :  "Then  in  God's  name  let  us  come  at 
once,  for  we  are  losing  time.  The  Count  may  come  to 
Piccadilly  earher  than  we  think." 

*'Not  so!"  said  Van  Helsing,  holding  up  his  hand. 

"But  why?"  I  asked. 

"Do  you  forget,"  he  said,  with  actually  a  smile,  "that 
last  night  he  banqueted  heavily,  and  will  sleep  late?" 

Did  I  forget!  shall  I  ever — can  I  ever!  Can  any  of  us 
ever  forget  that  terrible  scene !  Mina  struggled  hard  to 
keep  her  brave  countenance ;  but  the  pain  overmastered 
her  and  she  put  her  hands  before  her  face,  and  shuddered 
whilst  she  moaned.  Van  Helsing  had  not  intended  to  recall 
her  frightful  experience.  He  had  simply  lost  sight  of  her 
and  her  part  in  the  affair  in  his  intellectual  effort.  When 
it  struck  him  what  he  said,  he  was  horrified  at  his  thought- 
lessness and  tried  to  comfort  her.  "Oh,  Madam  Mina,"  he 
said,  "dear,  dear  Madam  Mina,  alas !  that  I  of  all  who  so 
reverence  you  should  have  said  anything  so  forgetful. 
These  stupid  old  lips  of  mine  and  this  stupid  old  head  do 
not  deserve  so ;  but  you  will  forget  it,  will  you  not  ?"  He 
bent  low  beside  her  as  he  spoke;  she  took  his  hand,  and 
looking  at  him  through  her  tears,  said  hoarsely : — 

"No,  I  shall  not  forget,  for  it  is  well  that  I  remember: 
and  with  it  I  have  so  much  in  memory  of  you  that  is 
sweet,  that  I  take  it  all  together.  Now,  you  must  all  be 
going  soon.  Breakfast  is  ready,  and  we  must  all  eat  that 
we  may  be  strong." 

Breakfast  was  a  strange  meal  to  us  all.  We  tried  to  be 
cheerful  and  encourage  each  other,  and  Mina  was  the 
brightest  and  most  cheerful  of  us.  When  it  was  over,  Van 
Helsing  stood  up  and  said : — 

"Now,  my  dear  friends,  we  go  forth  to  our  terrible 
enterprise.  Are  we  all  armed,  as  we  were  on  that  night 
when  first  we  visited  our  enemy's  lair;  armed  against 
ghostly  as  well  as  carnal  attack?"  We  all  assured  him. 
"Then  it  is  well.  Now,  Madam  Mina,  you  are  in  any  case 
quite  safe  here  until  the  sunset;  and  before  then  we  shall 


return — if We  shall  return !  But  before  we  go  let  me 

see  you  armed  against  personal  attack.  I  have  myself,  since 
you  came  down,  prepared  your  chamber  by  the  placing 
of  things  of  which  we  know,  so  that  He  may  not  enter. 
Now  let  me  guard  yourself.  On  your  forehead  I  touch  this 
piece  of  Sacred  Wafer  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  the 
Son,  and " 

There  was  a  fearful  scream  which  almost  froze  our 
hearts  to  hear.  As  he  had  placed  the  Wafer  on  Mina's 
forehead,  it  had  seared  it — had  burned  into  the  flesh  as 
though  it  had  been  a  piece  of  white-hot  metal.  My  poor 
darling's  brain  had  told  her  the  significance  of  the  fact  as 
quickly  as  her  nerves  received  the  pain  of  it ;  and  the  two 
so  overwhelmed  her  that  her  overwrought  nature  had  its 
voice  in  that  dreadful  scream.  But  the  words  to  her 
thought  came  quickly;  the  echo  of  the  scream  had  not 
ceased  to  ring  on  the  air  when  there  came  the  reaction,  and 
she  sank  on  her  knees  on  the  floor  in  an  agony  of  abase- 
ment. Pulling  her  beautiful  hair  over  her  face,  as  the  leper 
of  old  his  mantle,  she  wailed  out : — 

"Unclean!  Unclean!  Even  the  Almighty  shuns  my  pol- 
luted flesh !  I  must  bear  this  mark  of  shame  upon  my  fore- 
head until  the  Judgment  Day."  They  all  paused.  I  had 
thrown  myself  beside  her  in  an  agony  of  helpless  grief, 
and  putting  my  arms  around  held  her  tight.  For  a  few 
minutes  our  sorrowful  hearts  beat  together,  whilst  the 
friends  around  us  turned  away  their  eyes  that  ran  tears  si- 
lently. Then  Van  Helsing  turned  and  said  gravely ;  so 
gravely  that  I  could  not  help  feeling  that  he  was  in  some 
way  inspired,  and  was  stating  things  outside  himself  : — 

'Tt  may  be  that  you  may  have  to  bear  that  mark  till 
God  himself  see  fit,  as  He  most  surely  shall,  on  the  Judg- 
ment Day,  to  redress  all  wrongs  of  the  earth  and  of  His 
children  that  He  has  placed  thereon.  And  oh,  Madam 
Mina,  my  dear,  my  dear,  may  we  who  love  you  be  there 
to  see,  when  that  red  scar,  the  sign  of  God's  knowledge 
of  what  has  been,  shall  pass  away,  and  leave  your  forehead 
as  pure  as  the  heart  we  know.  For  so  surely  as  we  live, 
that  scar  shall  pass  away  when  God  sees  right  to  lift  the 
burden  that  is  hard  upon  us.  Till  then  we  bear  our  Cross, 


as  His  Son  did  in  obedience  to  His  Will.  It  may  be  that 
we  are  chosen  intruments  of  His  good  pleasure,  and  that 
we  ascend  to  His  bidding  as  that  other  through  stripes  and 
shame ;  through  tears  and  blood ;  through  doubts  and  fears, 
and  all  that  makes  the  difference  between  God  and  man." 

There  was  hope  in  his  words,  and  comfort;  and  they 
made  for  resignation.  Mina  and  I  both  felt  so,  and  simul- 
taneously we  each  took  one  of  the  old  man's  hands  and 
bent  over  and  kissed  it.  Then  without  a  word  we  all  knelt 
down  together,  and,  all  holding  hands,  swore  to  be  true  to 
each  other.  We  men  pledged  ourselves  to  raise  the  veil  of 
sorrow  from  the  head  of  her  whom,  each  in  his  own  way, 
we  loved;  and  we  prayed  for  help  and  guidance  in  the 
terrible  task  which  lay  before  us. 

It  was  then  time  to  start.  So  I  said  farewell  to  Mina,  a 
parting  which  neither  of  us  shall  forget  to  our  dying  day; 
and  we  set  out. 

To  one  thing  I  have  made  up  my  mind :  if  we  find  out 
that  Mina  must  be  a  vampire  in  the  end,  then  she  shall 
not  go  into  that  unknown  and  terrible  land  alone.  I  sup- 
pose it  is  thus  that  in  old  times  one  vampire  meant  many ; 
just  as  their  hideous  bodies  could  only  rest  in  sacred  earth, 
so  the  holiest  love  was  the  recruiting  sergeant  for  their 
ghastly  ranks. 

We  entered  Carfax  without  trouble  and  found  all  things 
the  same  as  on  the  first  occasion.  It  was  hard  to  believe 
that  amongst  so  prosaic  surroundings  of  neglect  and  dust 
and  decay  there  was  any  ground  for  such  fear  as  already 
we  knew.  Had  not  our  minds  been  made  up,  and  had  there 
not  been  terrible  memories  to  spur  us  on,  we  could  hardly 
have  proceeded  with  our  task.  We  found  no  papers,  or 
any  sign  of  use  in  the  house ;  and  in  the  old  chapel  the 
great  boxes  looked  just  as  we  had  seen  them  last.  Dr.  Van 
Helsing  said  to  us  solemnly  as  we  stood  before  them : — 

"And  now,  my  friends,  we  have  a  duty  here  to  do.  Wc 
must  sterilise  this  earth,  so  sacred  of  holy  memories,  that: 
he  has  brought  from  a  far  distant  land  for  such  fell  use. 
He  has  chosen  this  earth  because  it  has  been  holy.  Thus 
we  defeat  him  with  his  own  weapon,  for  we  make  it  more- 
holy  still.  It  was  sanctified  to  such  use  of  man,  now  we 


sanctify  it  to  God."  As  he  spoke  he  took  from  his  bag  a 
screwdriver  and  a  wrench,  and  very  soon  the  top  of  one 
of  the  cases  was  thrown  open.  The  earth  smelled  musty 
and  close;  but  we  did  not  somehow  seem  to  mmd,  lov  our 
attention  was  concentrated  on  the  Professor.  Takmg  from 
his  box  a  piece  of  the  Sacred  Wafer  he  laid  it  reverently 
on  the  earth,  and  then  shutting  down  the  lid  began  to  screw 
it  home,  we  aiding  him  as  he  worked. 

One  by  one  we  treated  in  the  same  way  each  ot  the 
great  boxes,  and  left  them  as  we  had  found  them  to  all 
appearance ;  but  in  each  was  a  portion  ot  the  Host. 

When  we  closed  the  door  behind  us,  the  Professor  said 

solemnly : —  ,       ,  •  1     n  ^1 

"So  much  is  already  done.  If  it  may  be  that  with  all  the 
others  we  can  be  so  successful,  then  the  sunset  of  this 
evening  may  shine  on  Madam  Mina's  forehead  all  white 
as  ivory  and  with  no  stain !" 

As  we  passed  across  the  lawn  on  our  way  to  the  station 
to  catch  our  train  we  could  see  the  front  of  the  asylum.  1 
looked  eagerly,  and  in  the  window  of  my  own  room  saw 
Mina  I  v^aved  my  hand  to  her,  and  nodded  to  tell  that  ou/ 
work  there  was  successfully  accomphshed.  She  nodded  111 
reply  to  show  that  she  understood.  The  last  I  saw  she 
was  waving  her  hand  in  farewell.  It  was  with  a  heavy  heart 
that  we  sought  the  station  and  just  caught  the  train,  which 
was  steaming  in  as  we  reached  the  platform. 
I  have  written  this  in  the  train. 

Piccadilly,  12:30  o'clock.— Just  before  we  reached 
Fenchurch  Street  Lord  Godalming  said  to  me : — 

"Quincey  and  I  will  find  a  locksmith.  You  had  better 
not  come  with  us  in. case  there  should  be  any  difficulty; 
for  under  the  circumstances  it  wouldn't  seem  so  bad  for 
us  to  break  into  an  empty  house.  But  you  are  a  solicitor 
and  the  Incorporated  Law  Society  might  tell  you  that  you 
should  have  known  better."  I  demurred  as  to  my  not  shar- 
ing any  danger  even  of  odium,  but  he  went  on :  Besides, 
it  will  attract  less  attention  if  there  are  not  too  many  of 
us.  My  title  will  make  it  all  right  with  the  locksmith,  and 
with  any  policeman  that  may  come  along.  You  had  better 

330  ^  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

go  with  Jack  and  the  Professor  and  stay  in  the  Green 
Park,  somewhere  in  sight  of  the  house ;  and  when  you  see 
the  door  opened  and  the  smith  has  gone  away,  do  you  all 
come  across.  We  shall  be  on  the  lookout  for  you,  and  shall 
let  you  in." 

"The  advice  is  good!"  said  Van  Helsing,  so  we  said  no 
more.  Godalming  and  Morris  hurried  oft  in  a  cab,  we 
following  in  another.  At  the  corner  of  Arlington  Street 
our  contingent  got  out  and  strolled  into  the  Green  Park. 
My  heart  beat  as  I  saw  the  house  on  which  so  much  of  our 
hope  was  centred,  looming  up  grim  and  silent  in  its  de- 
serted condition  amongst  its  more  lively  and  spruce-looking 
neighbours.  We  sat  down  on  a  bench  within  good  view, 
and  began  to  smoke  cigars  so  as  to  attract  as  little  attention 
as  possible.  The  minutes  seemed  to  pass  with  leaden  feet 
as  we  waited  for  the  coming  of  the  others. 

At  length  we  saw  a  four-wheeler  drive  up.  Out  of  it,  in 
leisurely  fashion,  got  Lord  Godalming  and  Morris ;  and 
down  from  the  box  descended  a  thick-set  working  man 
with  his  rush-woven  basket  of  tools.  Morris  paid  the  cab- 
man, who  touched  his  hat  and  drove  away.  Together  the 
two  ascended  the  steps,  and  Lord  Godalming  pointed 
out  what  he  wanted  done.  The  workman  took  off  his  coat 
leisurely  and  hung  it  on  one  of  the  spikes  of  the  rail,  say- 
ing something  to  a  policeman  who  just  then  sauntered 
along.  The  policeman  nodded  acquiescence,  and  the  man 
kneeling  down  placed  his  bag  beside  him.  After  searching' 
through  it,  he  took  out  a  selection  of  tools  which  he  pro- 
duced to  lay  beside  him  in  orderly  fashion.  Then  he  stood 
up,  looked  into  the  keyhole,  blew  into  it,  and  turning  to  his 
employers,  made  some  remark.  Lord  Godalming  smiled, 
and  the  man  lifted  a  good-sized  bunch  of  keys ;  selecting 
one  of  them,  he  began  to  probe  the  lock,  as  if  feeling  his 
way  with  it.  After  fumbling  about  for  a  bit  he  tried  a 
second,  and  then  a  third.  AH  at  once  the  door  opened  under 
a  slight  push  from  him,  and  he  and  the  two  others  entered 
the  hall.  We  sat  still;  my  own  cigar  burnt  furiously,  but 
Van  Helsing's  went  cold  altogether.  We  waited  patiently  as 
we  saw  the  workman  come  out  and  bring  in  his  bac^.  Then 
he  held  the  door  partly  open,  steadying  it  with  his  knees,.. 


whilst  he  fitted  a  key  to  the  lock.  This  he  finally  handed 
to  Lord  Godalming,  who  took  out  his  purse  and  gave  him 
something.  The  man  touched  his  hat,  took  his  bag,  put  on 
his  coat  and  departed ;  not  a  soul  took  the  slightest  notice 
of  the  whole  transaction. 

When  the  man  had  fairly  gone,  we  three  crossed  the 
street  and  knocked  at  the  door.  It  was  immediately  opened 
by  Quincey  Morris,  beside  whom  stood  Lord  Godalming 
lighting  a  cigar. 

"The  place  smells  so  vilely,"  said  the  latter  as  we  came 
in.  It  did  indeed  smell  vilely — like  the  old  chapel  at  Car- 
fax— and  with  our  previous  experience  it  was  plain  to  us 
that  the  Count  had  been  using  the  place  pretty  freely.  We 
moved  to  explore  the  house,  all  keeping  together  in  case  of 
attack;  for  we  knew  we  had  a  strong  and  wily  enemy  to 
deal  with,  and  as  yet  we  did  not  know  whether  the  Count 
might  not  be  in  the  house.  In  the  dining-room,  which  lay 
at  the  back  of  the  hall,  we  found  eight  boxes  of  earth. 
Eight  boxes  only  out  of  the  nine,  which  we  sought !  Our 
work  was  not  over,  and  would  never  be  until  we  should 
have  found  the  missing  box.  First  we  opened  the  shutters 
of  the  window  which  looked  out  across  a  narrow  stone- 
flagged  yard  at  the  blank  face  of  a  stable,  pointed  to  look 
like  the  front  of  a  miniature  house.  There  were  no  win- 
dows in  it,  so  we  were  not  afraid  of  being  overlooked.  We 
did  not  lose  any  time  in  examining  the  chests.  With  the 
tools  which  we  had  brought  with  us  we  opened  them,  one 
by  one,  and  treated  them  as  we  had  treated  those  others  in 
the  old  chapel.  It  was  evident  to  us  that  the  Count  was 
not  at  present  in  the  house,  and  we  proceeded  to  search 
for  any  of  his  effects. 

After  a  cursory  glance  at  the  rest  of  the  rooms,  from 
basement  to  attic,  we  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
dining-room  contained  any  eflfects  which  might  belong  to 
the  Count ;  and  so  we  proceeded  to  minutely  examine  them. 
They  lay  in  a  sort  of  orderly  disorder  on  the  great  dining- 
room  table.  There  were  title  deeds  of  the  Piccadilly  house 
in  a  great  bundle ;  deeds  of  the  purchase  of  the  houses 
at  Mile  End  and  Bermondsey ;  notepaper,  envelopes,  and 
pens  and  ink.  All  were  covered  up  in  thin  wrapping  paper 


to  keep  them  from  the  dust.  There  were  also  a  clothes 
brush,  a  brush  and  comb,  and  a  jug  and  basin — the  latter 
containing  dirty  water  which  was  reddened  as  if  with 
blood.  Last  of  all  was  a  little  heap  of  keys  of  all  sorts  and 
sizes,  probably  those  belonging  to  the  other  houses.  When 
we  had  examined  this  last  find,  Lord  Godalming  and 
Quincey  Morris  taking  accurate  notes  of  the  various  ad- 
dresses of  the  houses  in  the  East  and  the  South,  took  with 
them  the  keys  in  a  great  bunch,  and  set  out  to  destroy  the 
boxes  in  these  places.  The  rest  of  us  are,  with  what  pa- 
tience we  can,  waiting  their  return — or  the  coming  of  the 

DR.   Seward's   diary 

?  October.— Tht  time  seemed  terrible  long  whilst  we 
,vere  waiting  for  the  coming  of  Godalming  and  Qumcey 
Morns   The  Professor  tried  to  keep  our  minds  active  by 
iisin?  them  all  the  time.  I  could  see  his  beneficent  purpose 
by  the  side  glances  which  he  threw  from  time  to  time  at 
Marker  The  poor  fellow  is  overwhelmed  ma  misery  that 
it  appalling  to  see.  Last  night  he  was  a  frank    happy- 
ooWng  mfn,  with  strong,  youthful  face,  full  of  ener^ 
and  with  dark  brown  hair.  To-day  he  is  a  drawn  haggard 
o"d  man,  whose  white  hair  matches  well  with  the  hollow 
burning  eyes  and  grief -written  hnes  of  his  face.  His  en- 
S^s^tm  intact  fin  fact,  he  is  like  a  living  flanie   This 
mS^yet  be  his  salvation,  for,  if  all  go  we  1,  it  will  tide  him 
over  the  despairing  period;  he  will  then,  in  a  kind  of  way 
:;ke  agatto  the'rLlities  of  life.  Poor  fellow   I  thought 
my  own  trouble  was  bad  enough,  but  his— !  The  Pro^ 
fessor  knows  this  well  enough,  and  is  domg  his  best  to 
keep  his  mind  active.  What  he  has  been  saying  was,  under 
The  circumstances,  of  absorbing  interest.  So  well  as  I  can 

remember,  here  it  is : —  .       •        ^i  . 

"I  have  studied,  over  and  over  again  since  they  came 

into  my  hands,  all  the  papers  relating  to  this  monster ;  and 

he  more  I  have  studied,  the  greater  seems  the  necessity 

to  utterly  stamp  him  out.  All  through  there  are  signs  of 

his  advance;  not  only  of  his  power,  but  of  his  know  edge 

of  it    As  I  learned  from  the  researches  of   my  friend 

Arminus  of  Buda-Pesth,  he  was  in  life  a  most  wonderful 

man.  Soldier,  statesman,  and  latter  was 

the  highest  development  of  the  science-knowledge  of  his 

ime   He  had  a  mighty  brain,  a  learning  beyond  compai  e 

ai?d  a  heart  that  knew  no  fear  and  no  remorse.  He  dared 


334  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

even  to  attend  the  Scholomance,  and  there  was  no  branch 
of  knowledge  of  his  time  that  he  did  not  essay.  Well,  in 
him  the  brain  powers  survived  the  physical  death ;  though 
it  would  seem  that  memory  was  not  all  complete.  In  some 
faculties  of  mind  he  has  been,  and  is,  only  a  child ;  but 
he  is  growing,  and  some  things  that  were  childish  at  the 
first  are  now  of  man's  stature.  He  is  experimenting,  and 
doing  it  well ;  and  if  it  had  not  been  that  we  have  crossed 
his  path  he  would  be  yet — he  may  be  yet  if  we  fail — the 
father  or  furtherer  of  a  new  order  of  beings,  whose  road 
must  lead  through  Death,  not  Life." 

Marker  groaned  and  said,  "And  this  is  all  arraved 
against  my  darling!  But  how  is  he  experimenting?  The 
knowledge  may  help  us  to  defeat  him!" 

"He  has  all  along,  since  his  coming,  been  trying  his 
power,  slowly  but  surely;  that  big  child-brain  of  his  is 
working.  Well  for  us,  it  is,  as  yet,  a  child-brain ;  for  had 
he  dared,  at  the  first,  to  attempt  certain  things  he  would 
long  ago  have  been  beyond  our  power.  However,  he  means 
to  succeed,  and  a  man  who  has  centuries  before  him  can 
afford  to  wait  and  go  slow.  Festina  lente  may  well  be  his 

'T  fail  to  understand,"  said  Harker  wearily.  "Oh,  do  be 
more  plain  to  me!  Perhaps  grief  and  trouble  are  dulling 
my  brain." 

The  Professor  laid  his  hand  tenderly  on  his  shoulder  as 
he  spoke: — 

"Ah,  my  child,  I  will  be  plain.  Do  you  not  see  how,  of 
late,  this  monster  has  been  creeping  into  knowledge  ex- 
perimentally. How  he  has  been  making  use  of  the  zoopha- 
gous  patient  to  effect  his  entry  into  friend  John's  home; 
for  your  Vampire,  though  in  all  afterwards  he  can  come 
when  and  how  he  will,  must  at  the  first  make  entry  only 
when  asked  thereto  by  an  inmate.  But  these  are  not  his 
most  important  experiments.  Do  we  not  see  how  at  the 
first  all  these  so  great  boxes  were  moved  by  others.  He 
knew  not  then  but  that  must  be  so.  But  all  the  time  that  so 
great  child-brain  of  his  was  growing,  and  he  began  to 
consider  whether  he  might  not  himself  move  the  box.  So 
he  began  to  help ;  and  t^en,  when  he  found  that  this  be  all- 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  335 

right,  he  try  to  move  them  all  alone.  And  so  he  progress, 
and  he  scatter  these  graves  of  him ;  and  none  but  he  know 
where  they  are  hidden.  He  may  have  intend  to  bury  them 
deep  in  the  ground.  So  that  he  only  use  them  in  the  night, 
or  at  such  time  as  he  can  change  his  form,  they  do  him 
equal  well;  and  none  may  know  these  are  his  hiding- 
place  !  But,  my  child,  do  not  despair ;  this  knowledge  come 
to  him  just  too  late!  Already  all  of  his  lairs  but  one  be 
steriHse  as  for  him ;  and  before  the  sunset  this  shall  be  so. 
Then  he  have  no  place  where  he  can  move  and  hide.  I  de- 
layed this  morning  that  so  we  might  be  sure.  Is  there  not 
more  at  stake  for  us  than  for  him?  Then  why  we  not  be 
even  more  careful  than  him?  By  my  clock  it  is  one  hour, 
and  already,  if  all  be  well,  friend  Arthur  and  Quincey 
are  on  their  way  to  us.  To-day  is  our  day,  and  we  must 
go  sure,  if  slow,  and  lose  no  chance.  See !  there  are  five 
of  us  when  those  absent  ones  return." 

Whilst  he  was  speaking  we  were  startled  by  a  knock  at 
the  hall  door,  the  double  postman's  knock  of  the  telegraph 
boy.  We  all  moved  out  to  the  hall  with  one  impulse,  and 
Van  Helsing,  holding  up  his  hand  to  us  to  keep  silence, 
stepped  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  The  boy  handed  in  a 
despatch.  The  Professor  closed  the  door  again,  and,  after 
looking  at  the  direction,  opened  it  and  read  aloud. 

"Look  out  for  D.  He  has  just  now,  12:45,  come  from 
Carfax  hurriedly  and  hastened  towards  the  South.  He 
seems  to  be  going  the  round  and  may  want  to  see  you: 

There  was  a  pause,  broken  by  Jonathan  Harker's 
voice : — 

"Now,  God  be  thanked,  we  shall  soon  meet!"  Van  Hel- 
sing turned  to  him  quickly  and  said : — 

"God  will  act  in  His  own  way  and  time.  Do  not  fear, 
and  do  not  rejoice  as  yet ;  for  what  we  wish  for  at  the 
moment  may  be  our  undoings." 

"I  care  for  nothing  now,"  he  answered  hotly,  "except 
to  wipe  out  this  brute  from  the  face  of  creation.  I  would 
sell  my  soul  to  do  it !" 

"Oh,  hush,  hush,  my  child !"  said  Van  Helsing.  "God 
does  not  purchase  souls  in  this  wise ;  and  the  Devil,  though 

336  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

he  may  purchase,  does  not  keep  faith.  But  God  is  merci- 
ful and  just,  and  knows  your  pain  and  your  devotion  to 
that  dear  Madam  Mina.  Think  you,  how  her  pain  would  be 
doubled,  did  she  but  hear  your  wild  words.  Do  not  fear 
any  of  us,  we  are  all  devoted  to  this  cause,  and  to-day 
shall  see  the  end.  The  time  is  coming  for  action;  to-day 
fliis  Vampire  is  limited  to  the  powers  of  man,  and  till  sun- 
set he  may  not  change.  It  will  take  him  time  to  arrive  here 
— see,  it  is  twenty  minutes  past  one — and  there  are  yet 
some  times  before  he  can  hither  come,  be  he  never  so 
quick.  What  we  must  hope  for  is  that  my  Lord  Arthur  and 
Quincey  arrive  first." 

About  half  an  hour  after  we  had  received  Mrs.  Harker's 
telegram,  there  came  a  quiet,  resolute  knock  at  the  hall 
door.  It  was  just  an  ordinary  knock,  such  as  is  given 
hourly  by  thousands  of  gentlemen,  but  it  made  the  Pro- 
fessor's heart  and  mine  beat  loudly.  We  looked  at  each 
other,  and  together  moved  out  into  the  hall ;  we  each  held 
ready  to  use  our  various  armaments — the  spiritual  in  the 
left  hand,  the  mortal  in  the  right.  Van  Helsing  pulled  back 
the  latch,  and,  holding  the  door  half  open,  stood  back, 
having  both  hands  ready  for  action.  The  gladness  of  our 
hearts  must  have  shown  upon  our  faces  when  on  the  step, 
close  to  the  door,  we  saw  Lord  Godalming  and  Quincey 
Morris.  They  came  quickly  in  and  closed  the  door  behind 
them,  the  former  saying,  as  they  moved  along  the  hall : — 

'Tt  is  all  right.  We  found  both  places;  six  boxes  in  each 
and  we  destroyed  them  all !" 

"Destroyed?"  asked  the  Professor. 

"For  him !"  W^e  were  silent  for  a  minute,  and  then 
Quincey  said : — 

"There's  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait  here.  If,  however,  he 
doesn't  turn  up  by  five  o'clock,  we  must  start  off;  for 
it  won't  do  to  leave  Mrs.  Harker  alone  after  sunset." 

"He  will  be  here  before  long  now,"  said  Van  Helsing, 
who  had  been  consulting  his  pocket-book.  ''Nota  bene,  in 
Madam's  telegram  he  went  south  from  Carfax,  that  means 
he  went  to  cross  the  river,  and  he  could  only  do  so  at 
slack  of  tide,  which  should  be  something  before  one 
o'clock.  That  he  went  south  has  a  meaning  for  us.  He  is  as 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  337 

yet  only  suspicious ;  and  he  went  from  Carfax  first  to  the 
place  where  he  would  suspect  interference  least.  You  must 
have  been  at  Bermondsey  only  a  short  time  before  him. 
That  he  is  not  here  already  shows  that  he  went  to  Mile 
End  next.  This  took  him  some  time ;  for  he  would  then 
have  to  be  carried  over  the  river  in  some  way.  Believe  me, 
my  friends,  we  shall  not  have  long  to  wait  now.  We  should 
have  ready  some  plan  of  attack,  so  that  we  may  throw 
away  no  chance.  Hush,  there  is  no  time  now.  Have  all  your 
arms !  Be  ready !"  He  held  up  a  warning  hand  as  he  spoke, 
for  we  all  could  hear  a  key  softly  inserted  in  the  lock  of 
the  hall  door. 

I  could  not  but  admire,  even  at  such  a  moment,  the  way 
in  which  a  dominant  spirit  asserted  itself.  In  all  our  hunt- 
ing parties  and  adventures  in  different  parts  of  the  world, 
Quincey  Morris  had  always  been  the  one  to  arrange  the 
plan  of  action,  and  Arthur  and  I  had  been  accustomed  to 
obey  him  implicitly.  Now,  the  old  habit  seemed  to  be  re- 
newed instinctively.  With  a  swift  glance  around  the  room, 
he  at  once  laid  out  our  plan  of  attack,  and,  without  speak- 
ing a  word,  with  a  gesture,  placed  us  each  in  position.  Van 
Helsing,  Harker,  and  I  were  just  behind  the  door,  so  that 
when  it  was  opened  the  Professor  could  guard  it  whilst 
we  two  stepped  between  the  incomer  and  the  door.  God- 
aiming  behind  and  Quincey  in  front  stood  just  out  of 
sight  ready  to  move  in  front  of  the  window.  We  waited  in 
a  suspense  that  made  the  seconds  pass  with  nightmare 
slowness.  The  slow,  careful  steps  came  along  the  hall ;  the 
Count  was  evidently  prepared  for  some  surprise — ^at  least 
he  feared  it. 

Suddenly  with  a  single  bound  he  leaped  into  the  room, 
winning  a  way  past  us  before  any  of  us  could  raise  a  hand 
to  stay  him.  There  was  something  so  panther-like  in  the 
movement — something  so  unhuman,  that  it  seemed  to  sober 
us  all  from  the  shock  of  his  coming.  The  first  to  act  was 
Harker,  who,  with  a  quick  movement,  threw  himself  be- 
fore the  door  leading  into  the  room  in  the  front  of  the 
house.  As  the  Count  saw  us,  a  horrible  sort  of  snarl  passed 
over  his  face,  showing  the  eye-teeth  long  and  pointed ;  but 
the  evil  smile  as  quickly  passed  into  a  cold  stare  of  lion- 

338  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

like  disdain.  His  expressicn  again  chang-ed  as,  with  a  single 
impulse,  we  all  advanced  upon  him.  It  was  a  pity  that  we 
had  not  some  better  organised  plat?  of  attack,  for  even  at 
the  moment  I  wondered  what  we  were  to  do.  I  did  not  my- 
self know  whether  our  lethal  weapons  would  avail  us  any- 
thing. Marker  evidently  meant  to  try  the  matter,  for  he 
had  ready  his  great  Kukri  knife  and  made  a  fierce  and 
sudden  cut  at  him.  The  blow  was  a  powerful  one ;  only  the 
diabolical  quickness  of  the  Count's  leap  back  saved  him. 
A  second  less  and  the  trenchant  blade  had  shorne  through 
his  heart.  As  it  was,  the  point  just  cut  the  cloth  of  his 
coat,  making  a  wide  gap  whence  a  bundle  of  bank-notes 
and  a  stream  of  gold  fell  out.  The  expression  of  the 
Count's  face  was  so  hellish,  that  for  a  moment  I  feared 
for  Harker,  though  I  saw  him  throw  the  terrible  knife 
aloft  again  for  another  stroke.  Instinctively  I  moved  for- 
ward with  a  protective  impulse,  holding  the  Crucifix  and 
Wafer  in  my  left  hand.  I  felt  a  mighty  power  fly  along 
my  arm ;  and  it  was  without  surprise  that  I  saw  the  mon- 
ster cower  back  before  a  similar  movement  made  spon- 
taneously by  each  one  of  us.  It  would  be  impossible  to 
describe  the  expression  of  hate  and  baffled  malignity — of 
anger  and  hellish  rage — which  came  over  the  Count's  face. 
His  waxen  hue  became  greenish-yellow  by  the  contrast  of 
his  burning  eyes,  and  the  red  scar  on  the  forehead  showed 
on  the  pallid  skin  like  a  palpitating  wound.  The  next  in- 
stant, with  a  sinuous  dive  he  swept  under  Harker's  arm, 
ere  his  blow  could  fall,  and,  grasping  a  handful  of  the 
money  from  the  floor,  dashed  across  the  room,  threw  him- 
self at  the  window.  Amid  the  crash  and  glitter  of  the  fall- 
ing glass,  he  tumbled  into  the  flagged  area  below. 
Through  the  sound  of  the  shivering  glass  I  could  hear  the 
•*ting"  of  the  gold,  as  some  of  the  sovereigns  fell  on  the 
flagging.  .  ,  r  , 

We  ran  over  and  saw  him  sprmg  unhurt  from  the 
ground.  He,  rushing  up  the  steps,  crossed  the  flagged  yard, 
and  pushed  open  the  stable  door.  There  he  turned  and 
spoke  to  us : — 

"You  think  to  baffle  me,  vou — with  your  pale  faces  all 
in  a  row,  like  sheep  in  a  butcher's.  You  shall  be  sorry  yet. 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  339 

each  one  of  you!  You  think  you  have  left  me  without  a 
place  to  rest ;  but  I  have  more.  My  revenge  is  just  begun  [ 
I  spread  it  over  centuries,  and  time  is  on  my  side.  Your 
girls  that  you  all  love  are  mine  already ;  and  through  them 
you  and  others  shall  yet  be  mine — my  creatures,  to  do  my 
bidding  and  to  be  my  jackals  when  I  want  to  feed.  Bah !" 
With  a  contemptuous  sneer,  he  passed  quickly  through 
the  door,  and  we  heard  the  rusty  bolt  creak  as  he  fastened 
it  behind  him.  A  door  beyond  opened  and  shut.  The  first 
of  us  to  speak  was  the  Professor,  as,  realising  the  diffi- 
culty of  following  him  through  the  stable,  we  moved  to- 
ward the  hall. 

*'We  have  learnt  something — much !  Notwithstanding 
his  brave  words,  he  fears  us ;  he  fear  time,  he  fear  want  1 
For  if  not,  why  he  hurry  so?  His  very  tone  betray  him, 
or  my  ears  deceive.  Why  take  that  money?  You  follow 
quick.  You  are  hunters  of  wild  beast,  and  understand  it 
so.  For  me,  I  make  sure  that  nothing  here  may  be  of  use  to 
him,  if  so  that  he  return."  As  he  spoke  he  put  the  money 
remaining  into  his  pocket ;  took  the  title-deeds  in  the  bun- 
dle as  Harker  had  left  them,  and  swept  the  remaining 
things  into  the  open  fireplace,  where  he  set  fire  to  them 
with  a  match. 

Godalming  and  Morris  had  rushed  out  mto  the  yard,  and 
Harker  had  lowered  himself  from  the  window  to  follow 
the  Count.  He  had,  however,  bolted  the  stable  door;  and 
by  the  time  they  had  forced  it  open  there  was  no  sign  of 
him.  Van  Helsing  and  I  tried  to  make  inquiry  at  the  back 
of  the  house ;  but  the  mews  was  deserted  and  no  one  had 
seen  him  depart. 

It  was  now  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  sunset  was  not 
far  off.  We  had  to  recognise  that  our  game  was  up;  with 
heavy  hearts  we  agreed  with  the  Professor  when  he 
said : — 

"Let  us  go  back  to  Madam  Mina — poor,  poor  dear 
Madam  Mina.  All  we  can  do  just  now  is  done ;  and  we  can 
there,  at  least,  protect  her.  But  we  need  not  despair.  There 
is  but  one  more  earth-box,  and  we  must  try  to  find  it ; 
when  that  it  done  all  may  yet  be  well."  I  could  see  that 
he  spoke  as  bravely  as  he  could  to  comfort  Harker.  The 

340  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

poor  fellow  was  quite  broken  down ;  now  and  again  he 
gave  a  low  groan  which  he  could  not  suppress — he  was 
thinking  of  his  wife. 

With  sad  hearts  we  came  back  to  my  house,  where  we 
found  Mrs.  Harker  waiting  us,  with  an  appearance  of 
cheerfulness  which  did  honour  to  her  bravery  and  unsel- 
fishness. When  she  saw  our  faces,  her  own  became  as  pale 
as  death:  for  a  second  or  two  her  eyes  were  closed  as  if 
she  were  in  secret  prayer ;  and  then  she  said  cheerfully : — 

*'I  can  never  thank  you  all  enough.  Oh,  my  poor  dar- 
ling !"  As  she  spoke,  she  took  her  husband's  grey  head  in 
her  hands  and  kissed  it — ''Lay  your  poor  head  here  and 
rest  it.  All  will  yet  be  well,  dear!  God  will  protect  us  if 
He  so  will  it  in  His  good  intent."  The  poor  fellow  groaned. 
There  was  no  place  for  words  in  his  sublime  misery. 

We  had  a  sort  of  perfunctory  supper  together,  and  I 
think  it  cheered  us  all  up  somewhat.  It  was,  perhaps,  the 
mere  animal  heat  of  food  to  hungry  people — for  none  of 
us  had  eaten  anything  since  breakfast — or  the  sense  of 
companionship  may  have  helped  us ;  but  anyhow  we  were 
all  less  miserable,  and  saw  the  morrow  as  not  altogether 
without  hope.  True  to  our  promise,  we  told  Mrs.  Harker 
everything  which  had  passed;  and  although  she  grew 
snowy  white  at  times  when  danger  had  seemed  to  threaten 
her  husband,  and  red  at  others  when  his  devotion  to  her 
was  manifested,  she  listened  bravely  and  with  calmness. 
When  we  came  to  the  part  where  Harker  had  rushed  at 
the  Count  so  recklessly,  she  clung  to  her  husband's  arm, 
and  held  it  tight  as  though  her  clinging  could  protect  him 
from  any  harm  that  might  come.  She  said  nothing,  how- 
ever, till  the  narration  was  all  done,  and  matters  had  been 
brought  right  up  to  the  present  time.  Then  without  letting 
go  her  husband's  hand  she  stood  up  amongst  us  and  spoke. 
Oh,  that  I  could  give  any  idea  of  the  scene ;  of  that  sweet, 
sweet,  good,  good  woman  in  all  the  radiant  beauty  of  her 
youth  and  animation,  with  the  red  scar  on  her  forehead, 
of  which  she  was  conscious,  and  which  we  saw  with  grind- 
ing of  our  teeth — remembering  whence  and  how  it  came ; 
her  loving  kindness  against  our  grim  hate ;  her  tender 
faith  against  all  our  fears  and  doubting ;  and  we,  knowing 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  341 

that  so  far  as  symbols  went,  she  with  all  her  goodness  and 
purity  and  faith,  was  outcast  from  God. 

"Jonathan,"  she  said,  and  the  word  sounded  like  music 
on  her  lips  it  was  so  full  of  love  and  tenderness,  "Jona- 
than dear,  and  you  all  my  true,  true  friends,  I  want  you 
to  bear  something  in  mind  through  all  this  dreadful  time. 
I  know  that  you  must  fight — that  you  must  destroy  even 
as  you  destroyed  the  false  Lucy  so  that  the  true  Lucy 
might  live  hereafter;  but  it  is  not  a  work  of  hate.  That 
poor  soul  who  has  wrought  all  this  misery  is  the  saddest 
case  of  all.  Just  think  what  will  be  his  joy  when  he,  too, 
is  destroyed  in  his  worser  part  that  his  better  part  may 
have  spiritual  immortality.  You  must  be  pitiful  to  him,  too, 
though  it  may  not  hold  your  hands  from  his  destruction." 

As  she  spoke  I  could  see  her  husband's  face  darken  and 
draw  together,  as  though  the  passion  in  him  were  shrivel- 
ling his  being  to  its  core.  Instinctively  the  clasp  on  his 
wife's  hand  grew  closer,  till  his  knuckles  looked  white. 
She  did  not  flinch  from  the  pain  which  I  knew  she  must 
have  suffered,  but  looked  at  him  with  eyes  that  were  more 
appealing  than  ever.  As  she  stopped  speaking  he  leaped  to 
his  feet,  almost  tearing  his  hand  from  hers  as  he  spoke : — 

"May  God  give  him  into  my  hand  just  for  long  enough 
to  destroy  that  earthly  life  of  him  which  we  are  aiming  at. 
If  beyond  it  I  could  send  his  soul  for  ever  and  ever  to 
burning  hell  I  would  do  it !" 

"Oh,  hush !  oh,  hush !  in  the  name  of  the  good  God. 
Don't  say  such  things,  Jonathan,  my  husband ;  or  you  will 
crush  me  with  fear  and  horror.  Just  think,  my  dear — I 
have  been  thinking  all  this  long,  long  day  of  it — that  .  .  . 
perhaps  .  .  .  some  day  ...  I,  too,  may  need  such  pity;  and 
that  some  other  like  you — and  with  equal  cause  for  anger 
— may  deny  it  to  me !  Oh,  my  husband !  my  husband,  in- 
deed I  would  have  spared  you  such  a  thought  had  there 
been  another  way ;  but  I  pray  that  God  may  not  have 
treasured  your  wild  words,  except  as  the  heart-broken  wail 
of  a  very  loving  and  sorely  stricken  man.  Oh,  God,  let 
these  poor  white  hairs  go  in  evidence  of  what  he  has  suf- 
fered, who  all  his  life  has  done  no  wrong,  and  on  whom 
so  many  sorrows  have  come." 

342  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

We  men  were  all  in  tears  now.  There  was  no  resisting 
them,  and  we  wept  openly.  She  wept,  too,  to  see  that  her 
sweeter  counsels  had  prevailed.  Her  husband  flung  him- 
self on  his  knees  beside  her,  and  putting  his  arms  round 
her,  hid  his  face  in  the  folds  of  her  dress.  Van  Helsing 
beckoned  to  us  and  we  stole  out  of  the  room,  leaving  the 
two  loving  hearts  alone  with  their  God. 

Before  they  retired  the  Professor  fixed  up  the  room 
against  any  coming  of  the  Vampire,  and  assured  Mrs. 
Marker  that  she  might  rest  in  peace.  She  tried  to  school 
herself  to  the  belief,  and,  manifestly  for  her  husband's 
sake,  tried  to  seem  content.  It  was  a  brave  struggle ;  and 
was,  I  think  and  believe,  not  without  its  reward.  Van  Hel- 
sing had  placed  at  hand  a  bell  which  either  of  them  was  to 
sound  in  case  of  any  emergency.  When  they  had  retired, 
Quincey,  Godalming,  and  I  arranged  that  we  should  sit 
up,  dividing  the  night  between  us,  and  watch  over  the 
safety  of  the  poor  stricken  lady.  The  first  watch  falls  to 
Quincey,  so  the  rest  of  us  shall  be  off  to  bed  as  soon  as  we 
can.  Godalming  has  already  turned  in,  for  his  is  the  sec- 
ond watch.  Now  that  my  work  is  done  I,  too,  shall  go  to 

Jonathan  Markers  Journal. 

J — ^  October,  close  to  midnight. — I  thought  yesterday 
would  never  end.  There  was  over  me  a  yearning  for  sleep, 
in  some  sort  of  blind  belief  that  to  wake  would  be  to  find 
things  changed,  and  that  any  change  must  now  be  for  the 
better.  Before  we  parted,  we  discussed  what  our  next  step 
was  to  be,  but  we  could  arrive  at  no  result.  All  we  knew 
was  that  one  earth-box  remained,  and  that  the  Count  alone 
knew  where  it  was.  If  he  chooses  to  lie  hidden,  he  may 
bafile  us  for  years ;  and  in  the  meantime ! — the  thought  is 
too  horrible,  I  dare  not  think  of  it  even  now.  This  I  know : 
that  if  ever  there  was  a  woman  who  was  all  perfection, 
that  one  is  my  poor  wronged  darling.  I  love  her  a  thou- 
sand times  more  for  her  sweet  pity  of  last  night,  a  pity 
that  made  my  own  hate  of  the  monster  seem  despicable. 
Surely  God  will  not  permit  the  world  to  be  the  poorer  by 
the  loss  of  such  a  creature.  This  is  hope  to  me.  We  are  all 

DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  345 

drifting  reefwards  now,  and  faith  is  our  only  anchor. 
Thank  God!  Mina  is  sleeping,  and  sleeping  without 
dreams.  I  fear  what  her  dreams  might  be  like,  with  such 
terrible  memories  to  ground  them  in.  She  has  not  been 
so  calm,  within  my  seeing,  since  the  sunset.  Then,  for  a 
while,  there  came  over  her  face  a  repose  which  was  like 
spring  after  the  blasts  of  March.  I  thought  at  the  time 
that  it  was  the  softness  of  the  red  sunset  on  her  face,  but 
somehow  now  I  think  it  has  a  deeper  meaning.  I  am  not 
sleepy  myself,  though  I  am  weary — weary  to  death.  How- 
ever, I  must  try  to  sleep ;  for  there  is  to-morrow  to  think 
of,  and  there  is  no  rest  for  me  until.  .  .  . 

Later. — I  must  have  fallen  asleep,  for  I  was  awaked 
by  Mina,  who  was  sitting  up  in  bed,  with  a  startled  look  on 
her  face.  I  could  see  easily,  for  we  did  not  leave  the  room 
in  darkness ;  she  had  placed  a  warning  hand  over  my 
mouth,  and  now  she  whispered  in  my  ear : — 

"Hush !  there  is  someone  in  the  corridor !"  I  got  up 
softly,  and  crossing  the  room,  gently  opened  the  door. 

Just  outside,  stretched  on  a  mattress,  lay  Mr.  Morris^ 
wide  awake.  He  raised  a  warning  hand  for  silence  as  he 
whispered  to  me : — 

"Hush !  go  back  to  bed ;  it  is  all  right.  One  of  us  will 
be  here  all  night.  We  don't  mean  to  take  any  chances!" 

His  look  and  gesture  forbade  discussion,  so  I  came  back 
and  told  Mina.  She  sighed  and  positively  a  shadow  of  a 
smile  stole  over  her  poor,  pale  face  as  she  put  her  arms 
round  me  and  said  softly : — 

"Oh,  thank  God  for  good  brave  men!"  With  a  sigh  she 
sank  back  again  to  sleep.  I  write  this  now  as  I  am  not 
sleepy,  though  I  must  try  again. 

4  October,  morning. — Once  again  during  the  night  I  was 
wakened  by  Mina.  This  time  we  had  all  had  a  good  sleep, 
for  the  grey  of  the  coming  dawn  was  making  the  windows 
into  sharp  oblongs,  and  the  gas  flame  was  like  a  speck 
rather  than  a  disc  of  light.  She  said  to  me  hurriedly : — 

"Go,  call  the  Professor.  I  want  to  see  him  at  once." 

"Whv?"  I  asked. 

344  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

**1  have  an  idea.  I  suppose  it  must  have  come  in  the 
night,  and  matured  without  my  knowing  it.  He  must  hyp- 
notise me  before  the  dawn,  and  then  I  shall  be  able  to 
speak.  Go  quick,  dearest ;  the  time  is  getting  close."  I  went 
to  the  door.  Dr.  Seward  was  resting  on  the  mattress,  and, 
seeing  me,  he  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Is  anything  wrong?"  he  asked,  in  alarm. 

"No,"  I  replied ;  "but  Mina  wants  to  see  Dr.  Van  Hel- 
sing  at  once." 

"I  will  go,"  he  said,  and  hurried  into  the  Professor's 

In  two  or  three  minutes  later  Van  Helsing  was  in  the 
room  in  his  dressing-gown,  and  Mr.  Morris  and  Lord 
Godalming  were  with  Dr.  Seward  at  the  door  asking  ques- 
tions. When  the  Professor  saw  Mina  a  smile — a  positive 
smile  ousted  the  anxiety  of  his  face ;  he  rubbed  his  hands 
as  he  said : — 

**Oh,  my  dear  Madam  Mina,  this  is  indeed  a  change. 
See !  friend  Jonathan,  we  have  got  our  dear  Madam  Mina, 
as  of  old,  back  to  us  to-day !"  Then  turning  to  her,  he  said, 
cheerfully :  "And  what  am  I  do  for  you  ?  For  at  this  hour 
you  do  not  want  me  for  nothings." 

"I  want  you  to  hypnotise  me!"  she  said.  "Do  it  before 
the  dawn,  for  I  feel  that  then  I  can  speak,  and  speak 
freely.  Be  quick,  for  the  time  is  short!"  Without  a  word 
he  motioned  her  to  sit  up  in  bed. 

Looking  fixedly  at  her,  he  commenced  to  make  passes 
in  front  of  her,  from  over  the  top  of  her  head  downward, 
with  each  hand  in  turn.  Mina  gazed  at  him  fixedly  for  a 
few  minutes,  during  which  my  own  heart  beat  like  a  trip 
hammer,  for  I  felt  that  some  crisis  was  at  hand.  Gradu- 
ally her  eyes  closed,  and  she  sat,  stock  still ;  only  by  the 
gentle  heaving  of  her  bosom  could  one  know  that  she  was 
alive.  The  Professor  made  a  few  more  passes  and  then 
stopped,  and  I  could  see  that  his  forehead  was  covered 
with  great  beads  of  perspiration.  Mina  opened  her  eyes ; 
but  she  did  not  seem  the  same  woman.  There  was  a  far- 
away look  in  her  eyes,  and  her  voice  had  a  sad  dreaminess 
which  was  new  to  me.  Raising  his  hand  to  impose  silence, 
the  Professor  motioned  to  me  to  bring  the  others  in.  They 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  345 

came  on  tip-toe,  closing  the  door  behind  them,  and  stood 
at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  looking  on.  Mina  appeared  not  to 
see  them.  The  stillness  was  broken  by  Van  Helsing's  voice 
speaking  in  a  low  level  tone  which  would  not  break  the 
current  of   her  thoughts : — 

"Where  are  you  ?"  The  answer  came  in  a  neutral  way  : — 

**I  do  not  know.  Sleep  has  no  place  it  can  call  its  own.'' 
For  several  minutes  there  was  silence.  Mina  sat  rigid,  and 
the  Professor  stood  staring  at  her  fixedly ;  the  rest  of  us 
hardly  dared  to  breathe.  The  room  was  growing  lighter ; 
without  taking  his  eyes  from  Mina's  face,  Dr.  Van  Hel- 
sing  motioned  me  to  pull  up  the  blind.  I  did  so,  and  the  day 
seemed  just  upon  us.  A  red  streak  shot  up,  and  a  rosy  light 
seemed  to  diffuse  itself  through  the  room.  On  the  instant 
the  Professor  spoke  again : — 

"Where  are  you  now  ?"  The  answer  came  dreamily,  but 
with  intention ;  it  were  as  though  she  were  interpreting 
something.  I  have  heard  her  use  the  same  tone  when  read- 
ing her  shorthand  notes. 

'T  do  not  know.  It  is  all  strange  to  me !" 

"What  do  you  see?" 

"I  can  see  nothing;  it  is  all  dark." 

"What  do  you  hear?"  I  could  detect  the  strain  in  the 
Professor's  patient  voice. 

"The  lapping  of  water.  It  is  gurgling  by,  and  little 
waves  leap.  I  can  hear  them  on  the  outside." 

"Then  you  are  on  a  ship?"  We  all  looked  at  each  other, 
trying  to  glean  something  each  from  the  other.  We  were 
afraid  to  think.  The  answer  came  quick: — 

"Oh,  yes !" 

"What  else  do  you  hear?" 

"The  sound  of  men  stamping  overhead  as  they  run 
about.  There  is  the  creaking  of  a  chain,  and  the  loud  tin- 
kle as  the  check  of  the  capstan  falls  into  the  rachet." 

"What  are  you  doing?" 

"I'm  still — oh,  so  still.  It  is  like  death !"  The  voice  faded 
away  into  a  deep  breath  as  of  one  sleeping,  and  the  open 
eyes  closed  again. 

By  this  time  the  sun  had  risen,  and  we  were  all  in  the 
full  light  of  day.  Dr.  Van  Helsing  placed  his  hands  on 

346  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

Mina's  shoulders,  and  laid  her  head  down  softly  on  her 
pillow.  She  lay  like  a  sleeping  child  for  a  few  moments, 
and  then,  with  a  long  sigh,  awoke  and  stared  in  wonder  to 
see  all  around  her.  "Have  I  heen  talking  in  my  sleep?" 
was  all  she  said.  She  seemed,  however,  to  know  the  situa- 
tion without  telling,  though  she  was  eager  to  know  what 
she  had  told.  The  Professor  repeated  the  conversation, 
and  she  said  : — 

"Then  there  is  not  a  moment  to  lose :  it  may  not  be  yet 
too  late !"  Mr.  Morris  and  Lord  Godalming  started  for  the 
door  but  the  Professor's  calm  voice  called  them  back: — 

"Stay,  my  friends.  That  ship,  wherever  it  was,  was 
weighing  anchor  whilst  she  spoke.  There  are  many  ships 
weighing  anchor  at  the  moment  in  your  so  great  Port 
of  London.  Which  of  them  is  it  that  you  seek?  God  be 
thanked  that  we  have  once  again  a  clue,  though  whither 
it  may  lead  us  we  know  not.  W^  have  been  blind  some- 
what ;  blind  after  the  manner  of  men,  since  when  we  can 
look  back  we  see  what  we  might  have  seen  looking  for- 
ward if  we  had  been  able  to  see  what  we  might  have  seen ! 
Alas,  but  that  sentence  is  a  puddle ;  is  it  not  ?  We  can 
know  now  what  was  in  the  Count's  mind,  when  he  seize 
that  money,  though  Jonathan's  so  fierce  knife  put  him  in 
the  danger  that  even  he  dread.  He  meant  escape.  Hear  me, 
ESCAPE !  He  saw  that  with  but  one  earth-box  left,  and 
a  pack  of  men  following  like  dogs  after  a  fox,  this  Lon- 
don was  no  place  for  him.  He  have  take  his  last  earth- 
box  on  board  a  ship,  and  he  leave  the  land.  He  think  to 
escape,  but  no !  we  follow  him.  Tally  Ho !  as  friend  Arthur 
would  say  when  he  put  on  his  red  frock!  Our  old  fox  is 
wily ;  oh !  so  wily,  and  we  must  follow  w^th  wile.  I,  too,  am 
waly  and  I  think  his  mind  in  a  little  while.  In  meantime  we 
may  rest  and  in  peace,  for  there  are  waters  between  us 
which  he  do  not  w^ant  to  pass,  and  which  he  could  not  if 
he  would — unless  the  ship  were  to  touch  the  land,  and  then 
only  at  full  or  slack  tide.  See,  and  the  sun  is  just  rose,  and 
all  day  to  sunset  is  to  us.  Let  us  take  bath,  and  dress,  and 
have  breakfast  which  we  all  need,  and  which  we  can  eat 
comfortably  since  he  be  not  in  the  same  land  with  us." 
Mina  looked  at  him  appealingly  as  she  asked : — 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  347 

"But  why  need  we  seek  him  further,  when  he  is  gone 
away  from  us?"  He  took  her  hand  and  patted  it  as  he  re- 
plied : — 

*'Ask  me  nothings  as  yet.  When  we  have  breakfast,  then 
I  answer  all  questions."  He  would  say  no  more,  and  we 
separated  to  dress. 

After  breakfast  Mina  repeated  her  question.  He  looked 
at  her  gravely  for  a  minute  and  then  said  sorrowfully : — 

''Because  my  dear,  dear  Madam  Mina,  now  more  than 
ever  must  we  find  him  even  if  we  have  to  follow  him  to  the 
jaws  of  Hell !"  She  grew  paler  as  she  asked  faintly : — 


'^Because,"  he  answered  solemnly,  "he  can  live  for  cen- 
turies, and  you  are  but  mortal  woman.  Time  is  now  to  be 
dreaded — since  once  he  put  that  mark  upon  your  throat." 

I  was  just  in  time  to  catch  her  as  she  fell  forward  in  a 

Dk.  Seward's  phonograph  diary,  spoken  by  van 


This  to  Jonathan  Harker. 

You  are  to  stay  with  your  dear  Madam  Mina.  We  shall 
go  to  make  our  search — if  I  can  call  it  so,  for  it  is  not 
search  but  knowing,  and  we  seek  confirmation  only.  But  do 
you  stay  and  take  care  of  her  to-day.  This  is  your  best  and 
most  holiest  office.  This  day  nothing  can  find  him  here. 
Let  me  tell  you  that  so  you  will  know  what  we  four  know 
already,  for  I  have  tell  them.  He,  our  enemy,  have  gone 
away ;  he  have  gone  back  to  his  Castle  in  Transylvania  I 
know  it  so  well,  as  if  a  great  hand  of  fire  wrote  it  on  the 
wall.  He  have  prepare  for  this  in  some  way,  and  that  last 
earth-box  was  ready  to  ship  somewheres.  For  this  he  took 
the  money ;  for  this  he  hurry  at  the  last,  lest  we  catch  him 
before  the  sun  go  down.  It  was  his  last  hope,  save  that  he 
might  hide  in  the  tomb  that  he  think  poor  Miss  Lucy, 
being  as  he  thought  like  him,  keep  open  to  him.  But  there 
was  not  of  time.  When  that  fail  he  make  straight  for  his 
last  resource — his  last  earthwork  I  might  say  did  I  wish 
double  entente.  He  is  clever,  oh,  so  clever!  he  know  that 
his  game  here  was  finish ;  and  so  he  decide  he  go  back 
home.  He  find  ship  going  by  the  route  he  came,  and  he 
go  in  it.  We  go  ofif  now  to  find  what  ship,  and  whither 
bound ;  when  we  have  discover  that,  we  come  back  and  tell 
vou  all.  Then  we  will  comfort  you  and  poor  dear  Madam 
Mina  with  new  hope.  For  it  will  be  hope  when  you  think 
it  over :  that  all  is  not  lost.  This  very  creature  that  we  pur- 
sue, he  take  hundreds  of  years  to  get  so  far  as  London ; 
and  yet  in  one  day,  when  we  know  of  the  disposal  of 
him  we  drive  him  out.  He  is  finite,  though  he  is  powerful 
to  do  much  harm  and  suffers  not  as  we  do.  But  we  are 


DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  349 

strong,  each  in  our  purpose ;  and  we  are  all  more  strong 
together.  Take  heart  afresh,  dear  husband  of  Madam 
Mina.  This  battle  is  but  begun,  and  in  the  end  we  shall 
win — so  sure  as  that  God  sits  on  high  to  watch  over  His 
children.  Therefore  be  of  much  comfort  till  we  return. 

Van  Helsing. 

Jonathan  Marker's  Journal. 

4  October. — When  I  read  to  Mina,  Van  Helsing's  mes- 
sage in  the  phonograph,  the  poor  girl  brightened  up  con- 
siderably. Already  the  certainty  that  the  Count  is  out  of 
the  country  has  given  her  comfort ;  and  comfort  is  strength 
to  her.  For  my  own  part,  now  that  his  horrible  danger  is 
not  face  to  face  with  us,  it  seems  almost  impossible  to 
believe  in  it.  Even  my  own  terrible  experiences  in  Castle 
Dracula  seem  like  a  long-forgotten  dream.  Here  in  the 
crisp  autumn  air  in  the  bright  sunlight 

Alas !  how  can  I  disbelieve !  In  the  midst  of  my  thought 
my  eye  fell  on  the  red  scar  on  my  poor  darling's  white 
forehead.  Whilst  that  lasts,  there  can  be  no  disbelief.  And 
afterwards  the  very  memory  of  it  will  keep  faith  crystal 
clear.  Mina  and  I  fear  to  be  idle,  so  we  have  been  over  all 
the  diaries  again  and  again.  Somehow,  although  the  reality 
seems  greater  each  time,  the  pain  and  the  fear  seem  less. 
There  is  something  of  a  guiding  purpose  manifest  through- 
out, which  is  comforting.  Mina  says  that  perhaps  we  are 
the  instruments  of  ultimate  good.  It  may  be !  I  shall  try 
to  think  as  she  does.  We  have  never  spoken  to  each  other 
yet  of  the  future.  It  is  better  to  wait  till  we  see  the  Profes- 
sor and  the  others  after  their  investigations. 

The  day  is  running  by  more  quickly  than  I  ever  thought 
a  day  could  run  for  me  again.  It  is  now  three  o'clock. 

Mina  Marker's  Journal. 

5  October,  5  p.  m. — Our  meeting  for  report.  Present: 
Professor  Van  Helsing,  Lord  Godalming,  Dr.  Seward, 
Mr.  Quincey  Morris,  Jonathan  Harker,  Mina  Harker. 

Dr.  Van  Helsing^  described  what  steps  were  taken  dur- 

3SO  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

ing  the  day  to  discover  on  what  boat  and  whither  bound 
Count  Dracula  made  his  escape : — 

*'As  I  knew  that  he  wanted  to  get  back  to  Transylvania, 
I  felt  sure  that  he  must  go  by  the  Danube  mouth;  or  by 
somewhere  in  the  Black  Sea,  since  by  that  way  he  come. 
It  was  a  dreary  blank  that  was  before  us.  Ofune  ignotum 
pro  magnifico;  and  so  with  heavy  hearts  we  start  to  find 
what  ships  leave  for  the  Black  Sea  last  night.  He  was  in 
sailing  ship,  since  Madam  Mina  tell  of  sails  being  set. 
These  not  so  important  as  to  go  in  your  list  of  the  ship- 
ping in  the  Times,  and  so  we  go,  by  suggestion  of  Lord 
Godalming,  to  your  Lloyd's,  where  are  note  of  all  ships 
that  sail,  however  so  small.  There  we  find  that  only  one 
Black-Sea-bound  ship  go  out  with  the  tide.  She  is  the 
Csarina  Catherine,  and  she  sail  from  Doolittle's  Wharf 
for  Varna,  and  thence  on  to  other  parts  and  up  the 
Danube.  *Soh!'  said  I,  'this  is  the  ship  whereon  is  the 
Count.'  So  off  we  go  to  Doolittle's  Wharf,  and  there  we 
find  a  man  in  an  office  of  wood' so  small  that  the  man  look 
bigger  than  the  office.  From  him  we  inquire  of  the  goings 
of  the  Czarina  Catherine.  He  swear  much,  and  he  red 
face  and  loud  of  voice,  but  he  good  fellow  all  the  same ; 
and  when  Quincey  give  him  something  from  his  pocket 
which  crackle  as  he  roll  it  up,  and  put  it  in  a  so  small  bag 
which  he  have  hid  deep  in  his  clothing,  he  still  better  fel- 
low and  humble  servant  to  us.  He  come  with  us,  and  ask 
many  men  who  are  rough  and  hot ;  these  be  better  fellows 
too  when  they  have  been  no  more  thirsty.  They  say  much 
of  blood  and  bloom,  and  of  others  which  I  comprehend 
not,  though  I  guess  what  they  mean ;  but  nevertheless  they 
tell  us  all  things  which  we  want  to  know. 

"They  make  known  to  us  among  them,  how  last  after- 
noon at  about  five  o'clock  comes  a  man  so  hurry.  A  tall 
man,  thin  and  pale,  with  high  nose  and  teeth  so  white,  and 
eyes  that  seem  to  be  burning.  That  he  be  all  in  black,  ex- 
cept that  he  have  a  hat  of  straw  which  suit  not  him  or  the 
time.  That  he  scatter  his  money  in  making  quick  inquiry 
as  to  what  ship  sails  for  the  Black  Sea  and  for  where. 
Some  took  him  to  the  office  and  then  to  the  ship,  where  he 
will  not  go  aboard  but  halt  at  shore  end  of  gang-plank,  and 

DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  351 

ask  that  the  captain  come  to  him.  The  captain  come,  when 
told  that  he  will  be  pay  well ;  and  though  he  swear  much 
at  the  first  he  agree  to  term.  Then  the  thin  man  go  and 
some  one  tell  him  where  horse  and  cart  can  be  hired.  He 
go  there  and  soon  he  come  again,  himself  driving  cart 
on  which  a  great  box;  this  he  himself  lift  down,  though 
it  take  several  to  put  it  on  truck  for  the  ship.  He  give 
much  talk  to  captain  as  to  how  and  where  his  box  is  to  be 
place ;  but  the  captain  like  it  not  and  swear  at  him  in  many 
tongues,  and  tell  him  that  if  he  like  he  can  come  and  see 
where  it  shall  be.  But  he  say  *no' ;  that  he  come  not  yet, 
for  that  he  have  much  to  do.  Whereupon  the  captain  tell 
him  that  he  had  better  be  quick — with  blood — for  that  his 
ship  will  leave  the  place — of  blood — before  the  turn  of  the 
tide — with  blood.  Then  the  thin  man  smile  and  say  that  of 
course  he  must  go  when  he  think  fit ;  but  he  will  be  surprise 
if  he  go  quite  so  soon.  The  captain  swear  again,  polyglot, 
and  the  thin  man  make  him  bow,  and  thank  him,  and  say 
that  he  will  so  far  intrude  on  his  kindness  as  to  come  aboard 
before  the  sailing.  Final  the  captain,  more  red  than  ever, 
and  in  more  tongues,  tell  him  that  he  doesn't  want  no 
Frenchmen — with  bloom  upon  them  and  also  with  blood 
— in  his  ship — with  blood  on  her  also.  And  so,  after  ask- 
ing where  there  might  be  close  at  hand  a  ship  where  he 
might  purchase  ship  forms,  he  departed. 

"No  one  knew  where  he  went  'or  bloomin'  well  cared,* 
as  they  said,  for  they  had  something  else  to  think  of — well 
with  blood  again;  for  it  soon  became  apparent  to  all  that 
the  Czarina  Catherine  would  not  sail  as  was  expected.  A 
thin  mist  began  to  creep  up  from  the  river,  and  it  grew, 
and  grew ;  till  soon  a  dense  fog  enveloped  t"he  ship  and  all 
around  her.  The  captain  swore  polyglot — very  polyglot — 
polyglot  with  bloom  and  blood ;  but  he  could  do  nothirg. 
The  water  rose  and  rose ;  and  he  began  to  fear  that  he 
would  lose  the  tide  altogether.  He  was  in  no  friendly  mood, 
when  just  at  full  tide,  the  thin  man  came  up  the  gangplank 
again  and  asked  to  see  where  his  box  had  been  stowed. 
Then  the  captain  replied  that  he  wished  that  he  and  his 
box — old  and  with  much  bloom  and  blood — were  in  hell. 
But  the  thin  man  did  not  be  offended,  and  went  down 

352  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

with  the  mate  and  saw  where  it  was  place,  and  came  up 
and  stood  awhile  on  deck  in  fog.  He  must  have  come  off 
by  himself,  for  none  notice  him.  Indeed  they  thought  not 
of  him ;  for  soon  the  fog  begin  to  melt  away,  and  all  was 
clear  again.  IMy  friends  of  the  thirst  and  the  language 
that  was  of  bloom  and  blood  laughed,  as  they  told  how 
the  captain's  swears  exceeded  even  his  usual  polyglot,  and 
was  more  than  ever  full  of  picturesque,  when  on  ques- 
tioning other  mariners  who  were  on  movement  up  and 
down  on  the  river  that  hour,  he  found  that  few  of  them 
had  seen  any  of  fog  at  all,  except  where  it  lay  round  the 
wharf.  However,  the  ship  went  out  on  the  ebb  tide ;  and 
was  doubtless  by  morning  far  down  the  river  mouth.  She 
was  by  then,  when  they  told  us,  well  out  to  sea. 

"And  so,  my  dear  Madam  Mina,  it  is  that  we  have  to 
rest  for  a  time,  for  our  enemy  is  on  the  sea,  with  the  fog 
at  his  command,  on  his  way  to  the  Danube  mouth.  To  sail 
a  ship  takes  time,  go  she  never  so  quick;  and  when  we 
start  we  go  on  land  more  quick,  and  we  meet  him  there. 
Our  best  hope  is  to  come  on  him  when  in  the  box  between 
sunrise  and  sunset ;  for  then  he  can  make  no  struggle,  and 
we  may  deal  with  him  as  we  should.  There  are  days  for  us, 
in  which  we  can  make  ready  our  plan.  We  know  all  about 
where  he  go ;  for  we  have  seen  the  owner  of  the  ship,  who 
have  shown  us  invoices  and  all  papers  that  can  be.  The 
box  we  seek  is  to  be  landed  in  Varna,  and  to  be  given  to 
an  agent,  one  Ristics  who  will  there  present  his  creden- 
tials; and  so  our  merchant  friend  will  have  done  his  part. 
When  he  ask  if  there  be  any  wrong,  for  that  so,  he 
can  telegraph  and  have  inquiry  made  at  Varna,  we  say 
*no' ;  for  what  is  to  be  done  is  not  for  police  or  of  the 
customs.  It  must  be  done  by  us  alone  and  in  our  own 

When  Dr.  Van  Helsing  had  done  speaking,  I  asked  him 
if  he  were  certain  that  the  Count  had  remained  on  board 
the  ship.  He  replied :  "We  have  the  best  proof  of  that : 
your  own  evidence,  when  in  the  hypnotic  trance  this  morn- 
ing." 1  asked  him  again  if  it  were  really  necessary  that  they 
should  pursue  the  Count,  for  oh!  I  dread  Jonathan  leav- 
ing me,  and  I  know  that  he  would  surely  go  if  the  others 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  355 

went.  He  answered  in  growing  passion,  at  first  quietly.  As 
he  went  on,  however,  he  grew  more  angry  and  more  force- 
full,  till  in  the  end  we  could  not  but  see  wherein  was  at 
least  some  of  that  personal  dominance  which  made  him  so 
long  a  master  amongst  men : — 

"Yes,  it  is  necessary — necessary — necessary  !  For  yout 
sake  in  the  first,  and  then  for  the  sake  of  humanity.  This 
monster  has  done  much  harm  already,  in  the  narrow  scope 
where  he  find  himself,  and  in  the  short  time  when  as  yet 
he  was  only  as  a  body  groping  his  so  small  measure  in 
darkness  and  not  knowing.  All  this  have  I  told  these 
others ;  you,  my  dear  Madam  Mina,  will  learn  it  in  the 
phonograph  of  my  friend  John,  or  in  that  of  your  hus- 
band. I  have  told  them  how  the  measure  of  leaving  his 
own  barren  land — barren  of  peoples — and  coming  to  a  new 
land  where  life  of  man  teems  till  they  are  like  the  multi- 
tude of  standing  corn,  was  the  work  of  centuries.  Were 
another  of  the  Un-Dead,  like  him,  to  try  to  do  what  he  has 
done,  perhaps  not  all  the  centuries  of  the  world  that  have 
been,  or  that  will  be,  could  aid  him.  With  this  one,  all 
the  forces  of  nature  that  are  occult  and  deep  and  strong 
must  have  worked  together  in  some  wondrous  way.  The 
very  place,  where  he  have  been  alive,  Un-Dead  for  all 
these  centuries,  is  full  of  strangeness  of  the  geologic  and 
chemical  world.  There  are  deep  caverns  and  fissures  that 
reach  none  know  whither.  There  have  been  volcanoes, 
some  of  whose  openings  still  send  out  waters  of  strange 
properties,  and  gases  that  kill  or  make  to  vivify.  Doubtless, 
there  is  something  magnetic  or  electric  in  some  of  these 
-combinations  of  occult  forces  which  work  for  physical  life 
in  strange  way ;  and  in  himself  were  from  the  first  some 
great  qualities.  In  a  hard  and  warlike  time  he  was  celebrate 
that  he  have  more  iron  nerve,  more  subtle  brain,  more 
braver  heart,  than  any  man.  In  him  some  vital  principle 
have  in  strange  way  found  their  utmost ;  and  as  his  body 
keep  strong  and  grow  and  thrive,  so  his  brain  grow  too. 
All  this  without  that  diabolic  aid  which  is  surely  to  him ; 
for  it  have  to  yield  to  the  powers  that  come  from,  and  are, 
symbolic  of  good.  And  now  this  is  what  he  is  to  us.  He 
have  infect  you — oh,  forgive  me,  my  dear,  that  I  must  say 

354  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

such;  but  it  is  for  good  of  you  that  I  speak.  He  infect 
you  in  such  wise,  that  even  if  he  do  no  more,  you  have 
only  to  Hve — to  Hve  in  your  own  old,  sweet  way ;  and  so 
in  time,  death,  which  is  of  man's  common  lot,  and  with 
God's  sanction,  shall  make  you  like  to  him.  This  must  not 
be!  We  have  sworn  together  that  it  must  not.  Thus  are 
we  ministers  of  God's  own  wish :  that  the  world,  and  men 
for  whom  His  Son  die,  will  not  be  given  over  to  mon- 
sters, whose  very  existence  would  defame  Him.  He  have 
allowed  us  to  redeem  one  soul  already,  and  we  go  out  as 
the  pld  knights  of  the  Cross  to  redeem  more.  Like  them 
we  shall  travel  towards  the  sunrise ;  and  like  them,  if  we 
fall,  we  fall  in  good  cause."  He  paused  and  I  said : — 

''But  will  not  the  Count  take  his  rebuff  wisely?  Since 
he  has  been  driven  from  England,  will  he  not  avoid  it,  as 
a  tiger  does  the  village  from  which  he  has  been  hunted?" 

"Aha !"  he  said,  "your  simile  of  the  tiger  good,  for  me, 
and  I  shall  adopt  him.  Your  man-eater,  as  they  of  India 
call  the  tiger  who  has  once  tasted  blood  of  the  human,  care 
no  more  for  the  other  prey,  but  prowl  unceasingly  till  he 
get  him.  This  that  we  hunt  from  our  village  is  a  tiger,  too, 
a  man-eater,  and  he  never  cease  to  prowl.  Nay,  in  himself 
he  is  not  one  to  retire  and  stay  afar.  In  his  life,  his  living 
life,  he  go  over  the  Turkey  frontier  and  attack  his  enemy 
on  his  own  ground ;  he  be  beaten  back,  but  did  he  stay  ? 
No!  He  come  again,  and  again,  and  again.  Look  at  his 
persistence  and  endurance.  With  the  child-brain  that  was 
to  him  he  have  long  since  conceive  the  idea  of  coming  to 
a  great  city.  What  does  he  do?  He  find  out  the  place  of  all 
the  world  most  of  promise  for  him.  Then  he  deliberately 
set  himself  down  to  prepare  for  the  task.  He  find  in  pa- 
tience just  how  is  his  strength,  and  what  are  his  powers. 
He  study  new  tongues.  He  learn  new  social  life ;  new 
environment  of  old  ways,  the  politic,  the  law,  the  finance, 
the  science,  the  habit  of  a  new  land  and  a  new  people  who 
have  come  to  be  since  he  was.  His  glimpse  that  he  have 
had,  whet  his  appetite  only  and  enkeen  his  desire.  Nay, 
it  help  him  to  grow  as  to  his  brain ;  for  it  all  prove  to  him 
how  right  he  was  at  the  first  in  his  surmises.  He  have  done 
this  alone ;  all  alone !  from  a  ruin  tomb  in  a  forgotten  land. 

DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  355 

What  more  may  he  not  do  when  the  greater  world  of 
thought  is  open  to  him.  He  that  can  smile  at  death,  as  we 
know  him ;  who  can  flourish  in  the  midst  of  diseases  that 
kill  off  whole  peoples.  Oh,  if  such  an  one  was  to  come 
from  God,  and  not  the  Devil,  what  a  force  for  good  might 
he  not  be  in  this  old  world  of  ours.  But  we  are  pledged 
to  set  the  world  free.  Our  toil  must  be  in  silence,  and  our 
efforts  all  in  secret ;  for  in  this  enlightened  age,  when  men 
believe  not  even  what  they  see,  the  doubting  of  wise  men 
would  be  his  greatest  strength.  It  would  be  at  once  his 
sheath  and  his  armour,  and  his  weapons  to  destroy  us,  his 
enemies,  who  are  willing  to  peril  even  our  own  souls  for 
the  safety  of  one  we  love — for  the  good  of  mankind,  and 
for  the  honour  and  glory  of  God." 

After  a  general  discussion  it  was  determined  that  for 
to-night  nothing  be  definitely  settled;  that  we  should  all 
sleep  on  the  facts,  and  try  to  think  out  the  proper  conclu- 
sions. To-morrow,  at  breakfast,  we  are  to  meet  again,  and, 
after  making  our  conclusions  known  to  one  another,  we 
shall  decide  on  some  definite  cause  of  action. 

I  feel  a  wonderful  peace  and  rest  to-night.  It  is  as  if 
some  haunting  presence  were  removed  from  me.  Per- 
haps.. .  . 

My  surmise  was  not  finished,  could  not  be ;  for  I  caught 
sight  in  the  mirror  of  the  red  mark  upon  my  forehead; 
and  I  knew  that  I  was  still  unclean. 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

5  October. — We  all  rose  early,  and  I  think  that  sleep 
did  much  for  each  and  all  of  us.  When  we  met  at  early 
breakfast  there  was  more  general  cheerfulness  than  any 
of  us  had  ever  expected  to  experience  again. 

It  is  really  wonderful  how  much  resilience  there  is  in 
human  nature.  Let  any  obstructing  cause,  no  matter  what, 
be  removed  in  any  way — even  by  death — and  we  fly  back 
to  first  principles  of  hope  and  enjoyment.  More  than  once 


as  we  sat  around  the  table,  my  eyes  opened  in  wonder 
whether  the  whole  of  the  past  days  had  not  been  a  dream. 
It  was  only  when  I  caught  sight  of  the  red  blotch  on  Mrs. 
Harker's  forehead  that  I  was  brought  back  to  reality.  Even 
now,  when  I  am  gravely  revolving  the  matter,  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  realise  that  the  cause  of  all  our  trouble  is 
still  existent.  Even  Mrs.  Harker  seems  to  lose  sight  of  her 
trouble  for  whole  spells ;  it  is  only  now  and  again,  when 
something  recalls  it  to  her  mind,  that  she  thinks  of  her 
terrible  scar.  We  are  to  meet  here  in  my  study  in  half  an 
hour  and  decide  on  our  course  of  action.  I  see  only  one  im- 
mediate difficulty,  I  know  it  by  instinct  rather  than  reason : 
we  shall  all  have  to  speak  frankly;  and  yet  I  fear  that  in 
some  mysterious  way  poor  Mrs.  Harker's  tongue  is  tied.  I 
knozv  that  she  forms  conclusions  of  her  own,  and  from  all 
that  has  been  I  can  guess  how  brilliant  and  how  true  they 
must  be ;  but  she  will  not,  or  cannot,  give  them  utterance. 
I  have  mentioned  this  to  Van  Helsing,  and  he  and  I  are 
to  talk  it  over  when  we  are  alone.  I  suppose  it  is  some  of 
that  horrid  poison  which  has  got  into  her  veins  beginning  to 
work.  The  Count  had  his  own  purposes  when  he  gave  her 
what  Van  Helsing  called  ''the  Vampire's  baptism  of 
blood."  Well,  there  may  be  a  poison  that  distils  itself  out  of 
good  things ;  in  an  age  when  the  exi-stence  of  ptomaines  is 
a  mystery  we  should  not  wonder  at  anything !  One  thing  I 
know :  that  if  my  instinct  be  true  regarding  poor  Mrs. 
Harker's  silences,  then  there  is  a  terrible  difficulty — an 
unknown  danger — in  the  work  before  us.  The  same  power 
that  compels  her  silence  may  compel  her  speech.  I  dare  not 
think  further;  for  so  I  should  in  my  thoughts  dishonour 
a  noble  woman ! 

Van  Helsing  is  coming  to  my  study  a  little  before  the 
others.  I  shall  try  to  open  the  subject  with  him. 

Later. — When  the  Professor  came  in,  we  talked  over  the 
state  of  things.  I  could  see  that  he  had  something  on  his 
mind  which  he  wanted  to  say,  but  felt  some  hesitancy  about 
broaching  the  subject.  After  beating  about  the  bush  a  lit- 
tle, he  said  suddenly : — 

"Friend  John,  there  is  something  that  you  and  I  must 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  357 

talk  of  alone,  just  at  the  first  at  any  rate.  Later,  we  may 
have  to  take  the  others  into  our  confidence" ;  then  he 
stopped,  so  I  waited  ;  he  went  on  : — 

"Madam  Mina,  our  poor,  dear  Madam  Mina  is  chang- 
ing." A  cold  shiver  ran  through  me  to  find  my  worst  fears 
thus  endorsed.  Van  Helsing  continued : — 

''With  the  sad  experience  of  Miss  Lucy,  we  must  this 
time  be  warned  before  things  go  too  far.  Our  task  is  now 
in  reality  more  difficult  than  ever,  and  this  new  trouble 
makes  every  hour  of  the  direst  importance.  I  can  see  the 
characteristics  of  the  vampire  coming  in  her  face.  It  is  now 
but  very,  very  slight ;  but  it  is  to  be  seen  if  we  have  eyes 
to  notice  without  to  prejudge.  Her  teeth  are  some  sharper, 
and  at  times  her  eyes  are  more  hard.  But  these  are  not  all, 
there  is  to  her  the  silence  now  often ;  as  so  it  was  with 
Miss  Lucy.  She  did  not  speak,  even  when  she  wrote 
that  which  she  wished  to  be  known  later.  Now  my  fear  is 
this.  If  it  be  that  she  can,  by  our  hypnotic  trance,  tell  what 
the  Count  see  and  hear,  is  it  not  more  true  that  he  who 
have  hypnotise  her  first,  and  who  have  drink  of  her  very 
blood  and  make  her  drink  of  his,  should,  if  he  will,  com- 
pel her  mind  to  disclose  to  him  that  which  she  know?"  I 
nodded  acquiescence  ;  he  went  on : — 

"Then,  what  we  must  do  is  to  prevent  this;  we  must 
keep  her  ignorant  of  our  intent,  and  so  she  cannot  tell  what 
she  know  not.  This  is  a  painful  task !  Oh,  so  painful  that  it 
heart-break  me  to  think  of ;  but  it  must  be.  When  to-day 
we  meet,  I  must  tell  her  that  for  reason  which  we  will  not 
to  speak  she  must  not  more  be  of  our  council,  but  be  simply 
guarded  by  us."  He  wiped  his  forehead,  which  had  broken 
out  in  profuse  perspiration  at  the  thought  of  the  pain 
which  he  might  have  to  inflict  upon  the  poor  soul  already 
so  tortured.  I  knew  that  it  would  be  some  sort  of  com- 
fort to  him  if  I  told  him  that  I  also  had  come  to  the  same 
conclusion ;  for  at  any  rate  it  would  take  away  the  pain  of 
doubt.  I  told  him,  and  the  effect  was  as  I  expected. 

It  is  now  close  to  the  time  of  our  general  gathering.  Van 
Helsing  has  gone  away  to  prepare  for  the  meeting,  and  his 
painful  part  of  it.  I  really  believe  his  purpose  is  to  be  able 
to  pray  alone. 

358  .      D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

Later. — At  the  very  outset  of  our  meeting  a  great  per- 
sonal relief  was  experienced  b}^  both  Van  Helsing  and 
myself.  Mrs.  Harker  had  sent  a  message  by  her  husband  to 
say  that  she  would  not  join  us  at  present,  as  she  thought  it 
better  that  we  should  be  free  to  discuss  our  movements 
without  her  presence  to  embarrass  us.  The  Professor  and  I 
looked  at  each  other  for  an  instant,  and  somehow  we  both 
seemed  relieved.  For  my  own  part,  I  thought  that  if  Airs. 
Harker  realised  the  danger  herself,  it  was  much  pain  as 
well  as  much  danger  averted.  Under  the  circumstances  we 
agreed,  by  a  questioning  look  and  answer  with  finger  on 
lip,  to  pjeserve  silence  in  our  suspicions,  until  we  should 
have  been  able  to  confer  alone  again.  We  went  at  once  into 
our  Plan  of  Campaign.  Van  Helsing  roughly  put  the  facts 
before  us  first : — 

''The  Czarina  Catherine  left  the  Thames  yesterday 
morning.  It  will  take  her  at  the  quickest  speed  she  has  ever 
made  at  least  three  weeks  to  reach  Varna;  but  we  can 
travel  overland  to  the  same  place  in  three  days.  Now,  if 
we  allow  for  two  days  less  for  the  ship's  voyage,  owing  to 
such  weather  influences  as  we  know  that  the  Count  can 
bring  to  bear ;  and  if  we  allow  a  whole  day  and  night  for 
any  delays  which  may  occur  to  us,  then  we  have  a  margin 
of  nearly  two  weeks.  Thus,  in  order  to  be  quite  safe,  we 
must  leave  here  on  i/th  at  latest.  Then  we  shall  at  any  rate 
be  in  Varna  a  day  before  the  ship  arrives,  and  able  to  make 
such  preparations  as  may  be  necessary.  Of  course  we  shall 
all  go  armed — armed  against  evil  things,  spiritual  as  well 
as  physical."  Here  Quincey  ]\Iorris  added : — 

"I  understand  that  the  Count  comes  from  a  wolf  coun- 
try, and  it  may  be  that  he  shall  get  there  before  us.  I  pro- 
pose that  we  add  Winchesters  to  our  armament.  I  have  a 
kind. of  belief  in  a  Winchester  when  there  is  any  trouble  of 
that  sort  around.  Do  you  remember,  Art,  when  we  had  the 
pack  after  us  at  Tobolsk?  What  wouldn't  we  have  given 
then  for  a  repeater  apiece !" 

"Good!"  said  Van  Helsing,  "W^inchesters  it  shall  be. 
Quincey's  head  is  level  at  all  times,  but  most  so  when  there 
is  to  hunt,  metaphor  be  more  dishonour  to  science  than 
wolves  be  of  danger  to  man.  In  the  meantime  we  can  do 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  351, 

nothing  here ;  and  as  I  think  that  Varna  is  not  f  amihar  to 
any  of  us,  why  not  go  there  more  soon?  It  is  as  long  to 
wait  here  as  there.  To-night  and  to-morrow  we  can  get 
ready,  and  then,  if  all  be  well,  we  four  can  set  out  on  our 

"We  four?"  said  Harker  interrogatively,  looking  from 
one  to  another  of  us. 

"Of  course !"  answered  the  Professor  quickly,  ''you 
must  remain  to  take  care  of  your  so  sweet  wife !"  Harkei; 
was  silent  for  awhile  and  then  said  in  a  hollow  voice : — 

**Let  us  talk  of  that  part  of  it  in  the  morning.  I  want  to 
consult  with  Mina."  I  thought  that  now  was  the  time  fo; 
Van  Helsing  to  warn  him  not  to  disclose  our  plans  to  her ; 
but  he  took  no  notice.  I  looked  at  him  significantly  and 
coughed.  For  answer  he  put  his  finger  on  his  lips  and 
turned  away. 

Jonathan  Harker's  Journal. 

5  October,  afternoon. — For  some  time  after  our  meeting 
this  morning  I  could  not  think.  The  new  phases  of  things 
leave  my  mind  in  a  state  of  wonder  which  allows  no  room 
for  active  thought.  Mina's  determination  not  to  take  any 
])art  in  the  discussion  set  me  thinking ;  and  as  I  could  not 
argue  the  matter  with  her,  I  could  only  guess.  I  am  as  far 
as  ever  from  a  solution  now.  The  way  the  others  received 
it,  too,  puzzled  me ;  the  last  time  we  talked  of  the  subject 
we  agreed  that  there  was  to  be  no  more  concealment  of 
anything  amongst  us.  Mina  is  sleeping  now,  calmly  and 
sweetly  like  a  little  child.  Her  lips  are  curved  and  her  face 
beams  with  happiness.  Thank  God,  there  are  such  moments 
still  for  her. 

Later. — How  strange  it  all  is.  I  sat  watching  Mina's 
happy  sleep,  and  came  as  near  to  being  happy  myself  as  1 
suppose  I  shall  ever  be.  As  the  evening  drew  on,  and  the 
earth  took  its  shadows  from  the  sun  sinking  lower,  the  si- 
lence of  the  room  grew  more  and  more  solemn  to  me.  All 
at  once  Mina  opened  her  eyes,  and  looking  at  me  tenderly, 
said :— 

36^.  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

"Jonathan,  I  Avant  you  to  promise  me  something  on  your 
word  of  honour.  A  promise  made  to  me,  but  made  hohly 
in  God's  hearing,  and  not  to  be  broken  though  I  should  go 
down  on  my  knees  and  implore  you  with  bitter  tears. 
Quick,  you  must  make  it  to  me  at  once." 

*'Mina,"  I  said,  "a  promise  like  that,  I  cannot  make  at 
once.  I  may  have  no  right  to  make  it." 

"But,  dear  one,"  she  said,  with  such  spiritual  intensity 
that  her  eyes  were  like  pole  stars,  "it  is  I  who  wish  it ;  and 
it  is  not  for  myself.  You  can  ask  Dr.  Van  Helsing  if  I  am 
not  right;  if  he  disagrees  you  may  do  as  you  will.  Nay. 
more,  if  you  all  agree,  later,  you  are  absolved  from  the 

"I  promise !"  I  said,  and  for  a  moment  she  looked  su- 
premely happy ;  though  to  me  all  happiness  for  her  was  de- 
nied by  the  red  scar  on  her  forehead.  She  said  : — 

"Promise  me  that  you  will  not  tell  me  anything  of  the 
plans  formed  for  the  campaign  against  the  Count.  Not  by 
word,  or  inference,  or  implication ;  not  at  any  time  whilst 
this  remains  to  me !"  and  she  solemnly  pointed  to  the  scar. 
I  saw  that  she  was  in  earnest,  and  said  solemnly : — 

"I  promise !"  and  as  I  said  it  I  felt  that  from  that  instant 
a  door  had  been  shut  between  us. 

Later,  midnight. — Mina  has  been  bright  and  cheerful  all 
the  evening.  So  much  so  that  all  the  rest  seemed  to  take 
courage,  as  if  infected  somewhat  with  her  gaiety ;  as  a  re- 
^ult  even  I  myself  felt  as  if  the  pall  of  gloom  which  weighs 
us  down  were  somewhat  lifted.  We  all  retired  early.  Mina 
is  now  sleeping  like  a  little  child;  it  is  a  wonderful  thing 
that  her  faculty  of  sleep  remains  to  her  in  the  midst  of  her 
terrible  trouble.  Thank  God  for  it,  for  then  at  least  she 
can  forget  her  care.  Perhaps  her  example  may  affect  me 
AS  her  gaiety  did  to-night.  I  shall  try  it.  Oh !  for  a  dream- 
less sleep. 

6  October,  morning. — Another  surprise.  Mina  woke  me 
early,  about  the  same  time  as  yesterday,  and  asked  me  to 
bring  Dr.  Van  Helsing.  I  thought  that^  it  was  another  oc- 
casion for  hypnotism,  and  without  question  went  for  the 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  361 

Professor.  He  had  evidently  expected  some  such  call,  for 
I  found  him  dressed  in  his  room.  His  door  was  ajar,  so  that 
he  could  hear  the  opening  of  the  door  of  our  room.  He 
came  at  once ;  as  he  passed  into  the  room,  he  asked  Mina 
if  the  others  might  come,  too. 

"No,"  she  said  quite  simply,  "it  will  not  be  necessary. 
You  can  tell  them  just  as  well.  I  must  go  with  you  on  your 

Dr.  Van  Helsing  was  as  startled  as  I  was.  After  a  mo- 
ment's pause  he  asked  : — 

"But  why?" 

"You  must  take  me  with  you.  I  am  safer  with  you,  and 
you  shall  be  safer,  too." 

"But  why,  dear  Madam  Mina?  You  know  that  your 
safety  is  our  solemnest  duty.  We  go  into  danger,  to  which 
you  are,  or  may  be,  more  liable  than  any  of  us  from — 
from  circumstances — things  that  have  been."  He  paused, 

As  she  replied,  she  raised  her  finger  and  pointed  to  her 
forehead : — 

"I  know.  That  is  why  I  must  go.  I  can  tell  you  now, 
whilst  the  sun  is  coming  up;  I  may  not  be  able  again.  I 
know  that  when  the  Count  wills  me  I  must  go.  I  know  that 
if  he  tells  me  to  come  in  secret,  I  must  come  by  wile ;  by 
any  device  to  hoodwink — even  Jonathan.^'  God  saw  the 
look  that  she  turned  on  me  as  she  spoke,  and  if  there  be 
indeed  a  Recording  Angel  that  look  is  noted  to  her  ever- 
lasting honour.  I  could  only  clasp  her  hand.  I  could  not 
speak;  my  emotion  was  too  great  for  even  the  relief  of 
tears.  She  went  on  : — 

"You  men  are  brave  and  strong.  You  are  strong  in  your 
numbers,  for  you  can  defy  that  which  would  break  down 
the  human  endurance  of  one  who  had  to  guard  alone.  Be- 
sides, I  may  be  of  service,  since  you  can  hypotise  me  and 
so  learn  that  which  even  I  myself  do  not  know."  Dr.  Van 
Helsing  said  very  gravely : — 

"Madam  Mina,  you  are,  as  always,  most  wise.  You  shall 
with  us  come ;  and  together  we  shall  do  that  which  we  go 
forth  to  achieve."  When  he  had  spoken,  Mina's  long  spell 
of  silence  made  me  look  at  her.  She  had  fallen  back  on  her 


pillow  asleep ;  she  did  not  even  wake  when  I  had  pulled  up 
the  blind  and  let  in  the  sunlight  which  flooded  the  room. 
Van  Helsing  motioned  to  me  to  come  with  him  quietly.  We 
went  to  his  room,  and  within  a  minute  Lord  Godalming, 
Dr.  Seward,  and  Mr.  Morris  were  with  us  also.  He  told 
them  what  Mina  had  said,  and  went  on : — 

"In  the  morning  we  shall  leave  for  Varna.  We  have  now 
to  deal  with  a  new  factor :  Madam  Mina.  Oh,  but  her  soul 
is  true.  It  is  to  her  an  agony  to  tell  us  so  much  as  she  has 
done ;  but  it  is  most  right,  and  we  are  warned  in  time. 
There  must  be  no  chance  lost,  and  in  Varna  we  must  be 
ready  to  act  the  instant  when  that  ship  arrives." 

"What  shall  we  do  exactly?"  asked  Mr.  Morris  laconi- 
cally. The  Professor  paused  before  replying : — 

"We  shall  at  the  first  board  that  ship;  then,  when  we 
have  identified  the  box,  we  shall  place  a  branch  of  the  wild 
rose  on  it.  This  we  shall  fasten,  for  when  it  is  there  none 
can  emerge ;  so  at  least  says  the  superstition.  And  to  super- 
stition must  we  trust  at  the  first ;  it  was  man's  faith  in  the 
early,  and  it  have  its  root  in  faith  still.  Then,  when  we  get 
the  opportunity  that  we  seek,  when  none  are  near  to  see, 
we  shall  open  the  box,  and — and  all  will  be  well." 

"I  shall  not  wait  for  any  opportunity,"  said  Morris. 
"When  I  see  the  box  I  shall  open  it  and  destroy  the  mon- 
ster, though  there  were  a  thousand  men  looking  on,  and  if 
I  am  to  be  wiped  out  for  it  the  next  moment !"  I  grasped 
his  hand  instinctively  and  found  it  as  firm  as  a  piece  of 
steel.  I  think  he  understood  my  look ;  I  hope  he  did. 

"Good  boy,"  said  Dr.  V^an  Helsing.  "Brave  boy.  Quin- 
cey  is  all  man.  God  bless  him  for  it.  My  child,  believe  me 
none  of  us  shall  lag  behind  or  pause  from  any  fear.  I  do 
but  say  what  we  may  do — what  we  must  do.  But,  indeed, 
indeed  we  cannot  say  what  we  shall  do.  There  are  so  many 
things  which  may  happen,  and  their  ways  and  their  ends 
are  so  various  that  until  the  moment  we  may  not  say.  We 
shall  all  be  armed,  in  all  ways ;  and  when  the  time  for  the 
end  has  come,  our  eflfort  shall  not  be  lack.  Now  let  us  to- 
day put  all  our  aflfairs  in  order.  Let  all  things  which  touch 
on  others  dear  to  us.  and  who  on  us  depend,  be  complete ; 
for  none  of  us  can  tell  what,  or  when,  or  how,  the  end  may 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  363 

be.  As  for  me,  my  own  affairs  are  regulate ;  and  as  I  have 
nothing  else  to  do,  I  shall  go  make  arrangements  for  the 
travel.  I  shall  have  all  tickets  and  so  forth  for  our  jour- 

There  was  nothing  further  to  be  said,  and  we  parted.  I 
shall  now  settle  up  all  my  affairs  of  earth,  and  be  ready  for 
whatever  may  come.   .   .   . 

Later. — It  is  all  done ;  my  will  is  made,  and  all  complete. 
Mina  if  she  survive  is  my  sole  heir.  If  it  should  not  be  so, 
then  the  others  who  have  been  so  good  to  us  shall  have  re- 

It  is  now  drawing  towards  the  sunset ;  Mina's  uneasiness 
calls  my  attention  to  it.  I  am  sure  that  there  is  something 
on  her  mind  which  the  time  of  exact  sunset  will  reveal. 
These  occasions  are  becoming  harrowing  times  for  us  all, 
for  each  sunrise  and  sunset  opens  up  some  new  danger — ^ 
some  new  pain,  which,  however,  may  in  God's  will  be 
means  to  a  good  end.  I  write  all  these  things  in  the  diary 
since  my  darling  must  not  hear  them  now ;  but  if  it  may  be 
that  she  can  see  them  again,  they  shall  be  ready. 

She  is  calling  to  me. 


DR.  Seward's  diary 

II  October,  Evening. — Jonathan  Harker  has  asked  me 
to  note  this,  as  he  says  he  is  hardly  equal  to  the  task,  and 
he  wants  an  exact  record  kept. 

I  think  that  none  of  us  were  surprised  when  we  were 
asked  to  see  Mrs.  Harker  a  little  before  the  time  of  sun- 
set. We  have  of  late  come  to  understand  that  sunrise  and 
sunset  are  to  her  times  of  peculiar  freedom ;  when  her  old 
self  can  be  manifest  without  any  controlling  force  subdu- 
ing or  restraining  her,  or  inciting  her  to  action.  This  mood 
or  condition  begins  some  half  hour  or  more  before  actual 
sunrise  or  sunset,  and  lasts  till  either  the  sun  is  high,  or 
whilst  the  clouds  are  still  aglow  with  the  rays  streaming 
above  the  horizon.  At  first  there  is  a  sort  of  negative  con- 
dition, as  if  some  tie  were  loosened,  and  then  the  absolute 
freedom  quickly  follows ;  when,  however,  the  freedom 
ceases  the  change-back  or  relapse  comes  quickly,  preceded 
only  by  a  spell  of  warning  silence. 

To-night,  when  we  met,  she  was  somewhat  constrained, 
and  bore  all  the  signs  of  an  internal  struggle.  I  put  it  down 
myself  to  her  making  a  violent  effort  at  the  earliest  instant 
she  could  do  so.  A  very  few  minutes,  however,  gave  her 
complete  control  of  herself ;  then,  motioning  her  husband 
to  sit  beside  her  on  the  sofa  where  she  was  half  reclining, 
she  made  the  rest  of  us  bring  chairs  up  close.  Taking  her 
husband's  hand  in  hers  began  : — 

"We  are  all  here  together  in  freedom,  for  perhaps  the 
last  time !  I  know,  dear ;  I  know  that  you  will  always  be 
with  me  to  the  end."  This  was  to  her  husband  whose  hand 
had,  as  we  could  see ,  tightened  upon  hers.  'Tn  the  morning 
we  go  out  upon  our  task,  and  God  alone  knows  what  may 
be  in  store  for  any  of  us.  You  are  going  to  be  so  good  to 


DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  365 

me  as  to  take  me  with  you.  I  know  that  all  that  brave 
earnest  men  can  do  for  a  poor  weak  woman,  whose  soul 
perhaps  is  lost — no,  no,  not  yet,  but  is  at  any  rate  at  stake 
— you  will  do.  But  you  must  remember  that  I  am  not  as 
you  are.  There  is  a  poison  in  my  blood,  in  my  soul,  which 
may  destroy  me ;  which  must  destroy  me,  unless  some  re 
lief  comes  to  us.  Oh,  my  friends,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do, 
that  my  soul  is  at  stake ;  and  though  I  know  there  is  one 
way  out  for  me,  you  must  not  and  I  must  not  take  it !"  She 
looked  appealingly  to  us  all  in  turn,  beginning  and  ending 
with  her  husband. 

*'What  is  that?"  asked  Van  Helsing  in  a  hoarse  voice. 
*'What  is  that  way,  which  we  must  not — may  not — take?" 

"That  I  may  die  now,  either  by  my  own  hand  or  that  of 
another,  before  the  greater  evil  is  entirely  wrought.  I  know, 
and  you  know,  that  were  I  once  dead  you  could  and  would 
set  free  my  immortal  spirit,  even  as  you  did  my  poor 
Lucy's.  Were  death,  Or  the  fear  of  death,  the  only  thing 
that  stood  in  the  way  I  would  not  shrink  to  die  here,  now, 
amidst  the  friends  who  love  me.  But  death  is  not  all.  I  can- 
not believe  that  to  die  in  such  a  case,  when  there  is  hope 
before  us  and  a  bitter  task  to  be  done,  is  God's  will.  There- 
fore, I,  on  my  part,  give  up  here  the  certainty  of  eternal 
rest,  and  go  out  into  the  dark  where  may  be  the  blackest 
things  that  the  world  or  the  nether  world  holds !"  We  were 
all  silent,  for  we  knew  instinctively  that  this  was  only  a 
prelude.  The  faces  of  the  others  were  set,  and  Harker's 
grew  ashen  grey ;  perhaps  he  guessed  better  than  any  of  us 
what  was  coming.  She  continued  : — 

"This  is  what  I  can  give  into  the  hotch-pot."  I  cjuld  not 
but  note  the  quaint  legal  phrase  which  she  used  in  such  a 
place,  and  with  all  seriousness.  "What  will  each  of  you 
give?  Your  lives  I  know,"  she  went  on  quickly,  "that  is 
easy  for  brave  men.  Your  lives  are  God's,  and  you  can 
give  them  back  to  Him ;  but  what  will  you  give  to  me  ?" 
She  looked  again  questioningly,  but  this  time  avoided  her 
husband's  face.  Quincey  seemed  to  understand ;  he  nodded, 
and  her  face  Ht  up.  "Then  I  shall  tell  you  plainly  what  I 
want,  for  there  must  be  no  doubtful  matter  in  this  connec- 
tion between  us  now.  You  must  promise  me,  one  and  all 


— even  you,  my  beloved  husband — that,  should  the  time 
come,  you  will  kill  me." 

"What  is  that  time?"  The  voice  was  Quincey's,  but  it 
was  low  and  strained. 

''When  you  shall  be  convinced  that  I  am  so  changed  that 
it  is  better  that  I  die  that  I  may  live.  When  I  am  thus  dead 
in  the  flesh,  then  you  will,  without  a  moment's  delay,  drive 
a  stake  through  me  and  cut  oft'  my  head ;  or  do  whatever 
else  may  be  wanting  to  give  me  rest!" 

Quincey  was  the  first  to  rise  after  the  pause.  He  knelt 
down  before  her  and  taking  her  hand  in  his  said  sol- 
emnly : — 

"I'm  only  a  rough  fellow,  who  hasn't,  perhaps,  lived  as 
a  man  should  to  win  such  a  distinction,  but  I  swear  to  you 
by  all  that  I  hold  sacred  and  dear  that,  should  the  time  ever 
come,  I  shall  not  flinch  from  the  duty  that  you  have  set 
us.  And  I  promise  you,  too,  that  I  shall  make  all  certain, 
for  if  I  am  only  doubtful  I  shall  take  it  that  the  time  has 
come !" 

**My  true  friend!"  was  all  she  could  say  amid  her  fast- 
falling  tears,  as,  bonding  over,  she  kissed  his  hand. 

'T  swear  the  same,  my  dear  Madam  Mina!"  said  Van 

"And  I !"  said  Lord  Godalming,  each  of  them  in  turn 
kneeling  to  her  to  take  the  oath.  I  followed,  myself.  Then 
her  husband  turned  to  her  wan-eyed  and  with  a  greenish 
pallor  which  subdued  the  snowy  whiteness  of  his  hair,  and 
asked : — 

"And  must  I,  too,  make  such  a  promise,  oh,  my  wife?" 

"You  too,  my  dearest,"  she  said,  with  infinite  yearning 
of  pity  in  her  voice  and  eyes.  "You  must  not  shrink.  You 
are  nearest  and  dearest  and  all  the  world  to  me ;  our  souls 
are  knit  into  one,  for  all  life  and  all  time.  Think,  dear,  that 
there  have  been  times  when  brave  men  have  killed  their 
wives  and  their  womenkind,  to  keep  them  from  falling  into 
the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Their  hands  did  not  falter  any  the 
more  because  those  that  they  loved  implored  them  to  slay 
them.  It  is  men's  duty  towards  those  whom  they  love,  in 
such  times  of  sore  trial !  And  oh,  my  dear,  if  it  is  to  be 
that  I  must  meet  death  at  any  hand,  let  it  be  at  the  haiid  of 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  367 

him  that  loves  me  best.  Dr.  Van  Helsing,  I  have  not  for- 
gotten your  mercy  in  poor  Lucy's  case  to  him  who  loved" 
— she  stopped  with  a  flying  blush,  and  changed  her  phrase 
— **to  him  who  had  best  right  to  give  her  peace.  If  that 
time  shall  come  again,  I  look  to  you  to  make  it  a  happy 
memory  of  my  husband's  life  that  it  was  his  loving  hand 
which  set  me  free  from  the  awful  thrall  upon  me." 

"Again  I  swear!"  came  the  Professor's  resonant  voice. 
Mrs.  Harker  smiled,  positively  smiled,  as  with  a  sigh  of 
relief  she  leaned  back  and  said : — 

"And  now  one  word  of  warning,  a  warning  which  you 
must  never  forget:  this  time,  if  it  ever  come,  may  come 
quickly  and  unexpectedly,  and  in  such  case  you  must  lose 
no  time  in  using  your  opportunity.  At  such  a  time  I  myself 
might  be — nay!  if  the  time  ever  comes,  shall  be — leagued 
with  your  enemy  against  you." 

**One  more  request ;"  she  became  very  solemn  as  she 
said  this,  "it  is  not  vital  and  necessary  like  the  other,  but  I 
want  you  to  do  one  thing  for  me,  if  you  will."  We  all 
acquiesced,  but  no  one  spoke;  there  was  no  need  to 
speak : — 

"I  want  you  to  read  the  Burial  Service."  She  was  inter- 
rupted by  a  deep  groan  from  her  husband ;  taking  his  hand 
in  hers,  she  held  it  over  her  heart,  and  continued :  "You 
must  read  it  over  me  some  day.  Whatever  may  be  the  issue 
of  all  this  fearful  state  of  things,  it  will  be  a  sweet  thought 
to  all  or  some  of  us.  You,  my  dearest,  will  I  hope  read  it, 
for  then  it  will  be  in  your  voice  in  my  memory  for  ever — 
come  what  may !" 

"But  oh,  my  dear  one,"  he  pleaded,  "death  is  afar  off 
from  you." 

"Nay,"  she  said,  holding  up  a  warning  hand.  "I  am 
deeper  in  death  at  this  moment  than  if  the  weight  of  an 
earthly  grave  lay  heavy  upon  me !" 

"Oh,  my  wife,  must  I  read  it?"  he  said,  before  he  began. 

"It  would  comfort  me,  my  husband!"  was  all  she  said; 
and  he  began  to  read  when  she  had  got  the  book  ready. 

"How  can  I — how  could  any  one — tell  of  that  strange 
scene,  its  solemnity,  its  gloom,  its  sadness,  its  horror ;  and, 
withal,  its  sweetness.  Even  a  sceptic,  who  can  see  nothing 

368  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

but  a  travesty  of  bitter  truth  in  anything  holy  or  emotional, 
would  have  been  melted  to  the  heart  had  he  seen  that  little 
group  of  loving  and  devoted  friends  kneeling  round  that 
stricken  and  sorrowing  lady;  or  heard  the  tender  passion 
of  her  husband's  voice,  as  in  tones  so  broken  with  emo- 
tion that  often  he  had  to  pause,  he  read  the  simple  and 
beautiful  service  from  the  Burial  of  the  Dead.  I — I  cannot 
go  on — ^words — and — ^v-voice — f-fail  m-me !" 

She  was  right  in  her  instinct.  Strange  as  it  all  was,  bi- 
zarre as  it  may  hereafter  seem  even  to  us  who  felt  its 
potent  influence  at  the  time,  it  comforted  us  much ;  and  the 
silence,  which  showed  Mrs.  Harker's  coming  relapse  from 
her  freedom  of  soul,  did  not  seem  so  full  of  despair  to  any 
of  us  as  we  had  dreaded. 

Jonathan  Harker's  Journal. 

15  October,  Varna. — We  left  Charing  Cross  on  the 
morning  of  the  12th,  got  to  Paris  the  same  night,  and  took 
the  places  secured  for  us  in  the  Orient  Express.  We  trav- 
elled night  and  day,  arriving  here  at  about  five  o'clock. 
Lord  Godalming  went  to  the  Consulate  to  see  if  any  tele- 
gram had  arrived  for  him,  whilst  the  rest  of  us  came  on 
to  this  hotel — "the  Odessus."  The  journey  may  have  had 
incidents ;  I  was,  however,  too  eager  to  get  on,  to  care  for 
them.  Until  the  Czarina  Catherine  comes  into  port  there 
will  be  no  interest  for  me  in  anything  in  the  wide  world. 
Thank  God !  Mina  is  well,  and  looks  to  be  getting  stronger  : 
her  colour  is  coming  back.  She  sleeps  a  great  deal : 
throughout  the  journey  she  slept  nearly  all  the  time.  Before 
sunrise  and  sunset,  however,  she  is  very  wakeful  and  alert ; 
and  it  has  become  a  habit  for  Van  Helsing  to  hypnotise  her 
at  such  times.  At  first,  some  effort  was  needed,  and  he  had 
to  make  many  passes ;  but  now,  she  seems  to  yield  at  once, 
as  if  by  habit,  and  scarcely  any  action  is  needed.  He  seems 
to  have  power  at  these  particular  moments  to  simply  will, 
and  her  thoughts  obey  him.  He  always  asks  her  what  she 
can  see  and  hear.  She  answers  to  the  first : — 
,     "Nothing;  all  is  dark."  And  to  the  second: — 

DR.     SEWARD^S     DIARY  369 

"I  can  hear  the  waves  lapping  against  the  ship,  and  the 
water  rushing  by.  Canvas  and  cordage  strain  and  masts 
and  yards  creak.  The  wind  is  high — I  can  hear  it  in  the 
shrouds,  and  the  bow  throws  back  the  foam."  It  is  evident 
that  the  Czarina  Catherine  is  still  at  sea,  hastening  on  her 
way  to  Varna.  Lord  Godalming  has  just  returned.  He  had 
four  telegrams,  one  each  day  since  we  started,  and  all  to 
the  same  effect :  that  the  Czarina  Catherine  had  not  been 
reported  to  Lloyd's  from  anywhere.  He  had  arranged  be- 
fore leaving  London  that  his  agent  should  send  him  every 
day  a  telegram  saying  if  the  ship  had  been  reported.  He 
was  to  have  a  message  even  if  she  were  not  reported,  so 
that  he  might  be  sure  that  there  was  a  watch  being  kept  at 
the  other  end  of  the  wire. 

We  had  dinner  and  went  to  bed  early.  To-morrow  we 
are  to  see  the  Vice-Consul,  and  to  arrange,  if  we  can,  about 
getting  on  board  the  ship  as  soon  as  she  arrives.  Van  Hel- 
sing  says  that  our  chance  will  be  to  get  on  the  boat  between 
sunrise  and  sunset.  The  Count,  even  if  he  takes  the  form 
of  a  bat,  cannot  cross  the  running  water  of  his  own  voli- 
tion, and  so  cannot  leave  the  ship.  As  he  dare  not  change  to 
man's  form  without  suspicion — which  he  evidently  wishes 
to  avoid — he  must  remain  in  the  box.  If,  then,  we  can  come 
on  board  after  sunrise,  he  is  at  our  mercy ;  for  w^e  can  open 
the  box  and  make  sure  of  him,  as  we  did  of  poor  Lucy, 
])efore  he  wakes.  What  mercy  he  shall  get  from  us  will  not 
count  for  much.  We  think  that  we  shall  not  have  much 
trouble  with  officials  or  the  seamen.  Thank  God !  this  is  the 
country  where  bribery  can  do  anything,  and  we  are  well 
supplied  w^ith  money.  We  have  only  to  make  sure  that  the 
ship  cannot  come  into  port  between  sunset  and  sunrise 
without  our  being  warned,  and  we  shall  be  safe.  Judge 
Moneybag  will  settle  this  case,  I  think ! 

16  October. — Mina's  report  still  the  same  :  lapping  waves 
and  rushing  water,  darkness  and  favouring  winds.  We  are 
evidently  in  good  time,  and  when  we  hear  of  the  Czarina 
CatJierine  we  shall  be  ready.  As  she  must  pass  the  Darda- 
nelles we  are  sure  to  have  some  report. 

370  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

ly  October. — Everything  is  pretty  well  fixed  now,  T 
think,  to  welcome  the  Count  on  his  return  from  his  tour. 
Godalming  told  the  shippers  that  he  fancied  that  the  box 
sent  aboard  might  contain  something  stolen  from  a  friend 
of  his,  and  got  a  half  consent  that  he  might  open  it  at  his 
own  risk.  The  owner  gave  him  a  paper  telling  the  Captain 
to  give  him  every  facility  in  doing  whatever  he  chose  on 
board  the  ship,  and  also  a  similar  authorisation  to  his  agent 
at  Varna.  We  have  seen  the  agent,  who  was  much  im- 
pressed with  Godalming's  kindly  manner  to  him,  and  we 
are  all  satisfied  that  whatever  he  can  do  to  aid  our  wishes 
will  be  done.  We  have  already  arranged  what  to  do  in  case 
we  get  the  box  open.  If  the  Count  is  there,  Van  Helsing 
and  Seward  will  cut  off  his  head  at  once  and  drive  a  stake 
through  his  heart.  Morris  and  Godalming  and  I  shall  pre- 
vent interference,  even  if  we  have  to  use  the  arms  which 
we  shall  have  ready.  The  Professor  says  that  if  we  can 
so  treat  the  Count's  body,  it  will  soon  after  fall  into  dust. 
In  such  case  there  would  be  no  evidence  against  us,  in  case 
any  suspicion  of  murder  were  aroused.  But  even  if  it  were 
not,  we  should  stand  or  fall  by  our  act,  and  perhaps  some 
day  this  very  script  may  be  evidence  to  come  between  some 
of  us  and  a  rope.  For  myself,  I  should  take  the  chance  only 
too  thankfully  if  it  were  to  come.  We  mean  to  leave  no 
stone  unturned  to  carry  out  our  intent.  We  have  arranged 
with  certain  officials  that  the  instant  the  Czarina  Catherine 
is  seen,  we  are  to  be  informed  by  a  special  messenger. 

24  October. — A  whole  week  of  waiting.  Daily  telegrams 
to  Godalming,  but  only  the  same  story  :  "Not  yet  reported." 
Mina's  morning  and  evening  hypnotic  answer  is  unvaried : 
lapping  waves,  rushing  water,  and  creaking  masts. 

Telegram,  October  24th. 
Rufus  Smith,  Lloyd's,  London,  to  Lord  Godalming,  care 
of  H.  B.  M.  V ice-Consul,  Varna. 

"Czarina  Catherine  reported  this  morning  from  Darda- 

DR.    SEWARD'S    DIARY  371 

Dr.  Seward's  Diary. 

25  October. — How  I  miss  my  phonograph!  To  write 
diary  with  a  pen  is  irksome  to  me ;  but  Van  Helsing  says  I 
must.  We  were  all  wild  with  excitement  yesterday  when 
Godalming  got  his  telegram  from  Lloyd's.  I  know  now 
what  men  feel  in  battle  when  the  call  to  action  is  heard. 
Mrs.  Harker,  alone  of  our  party,  did  not  show  any  signs 
of  emotion.  After  all,  it  is  not  strange  that  she  did  not; 
for  we  took  special  care  not  to  let  her  know  anything  about 
it,  and  we  all  tried  not  to  show  any  excitement  when  we 
were  in  her  presence.  In  old  days  she  would,  I  am  sure^ 
have  noticed,  no  matter  how  we  might  have  tried  to  con- 
ceal it ;  but  in  this  way  she  is  greatly  changed  during  the 
past  three  weeks.  The  lethargy  grows  upon  her,  and  though 
she  seems  strong  and  well,  and  is  getting  back  some  of  her 
colour,  Van  Helsing  and  I  are  not  satisfied.  We  talk  of  her 
often ;  we  have  not,  however,  said  a  word  to  the  others.  It 
would  break  poor  Harker's  heart — certainly  his  nerve — if 
he  knew  that  we  had  even  a  suspicion  on  the  subject.  Van 
Helsing  examines,  he  tells  me,  her  teeth  very  carefully, 
whilst  she  is  in  the  hypnotic  condition,  for  he  says  that  so 
long  as  they  do  not  begin  to  sharpen  there  is  no  active 
danger  of  a  change  in  her.  If  this  change  should  come,  it 
would  be  necessary  to  take  steps !  .  .  .  We  both  know 
what  those  steps  would  have  to  be,  though  we  do  not  men- 
tion our  thoughts  to  each  other.  We  should  neither  of  us 
shrink  from  the  task — awful  though  it  be  to  contemplate. 
"Euthanasia"  is  an  excellent  and  a  comforting  word !  I  am 
grateful  to  whoever  invented  it. 

It  is  only  about  24  hours'  sail  from  the  Dardanelles  to 
here,  at  the  rate  the  Czarina  Catherine  has  come  from  Lon- 
don. She  should  therefore  arrive  some  time  in  the  morn- 
ing; but  as  she  cannot  possibly  get  in  before  then,  we 
made  all  about  to  retire  early.  We  shall  get  up  at  one 
o'clock,  so  as  to  be.  ready. 

25  October,  Noon. — No  news  yet  of  the  ship's  arrival, 
Mrs.  Harker's  hypnotic  report  this  morning  was  the  same 


as  usual,  so  it  is  possible  that  we  may  get  news  at  any  mo- 
ment. We  men  are  all  in  a  fever  of  excitement,  except 
Harker,  who  is  calm ;  his  hands  are  cold  as  ice,  and  an  hour 
ago  I  found  him  whetting  the  edge  of  the  great  Ghoorka 
knife  which  he  now  always  carries  with  him.  It  will  be  a 
bad  lookout  for  the  Count  if  the  edge  of  that  ''Kukri"  ever 
touches  his  throat,  driven  by  that  stern,  ice-cold  hand ! 

Van  Helsing  and  I  were  a  little  alarmed  about  Mrs. 
Harker  to-day.  About  noon  she  got  into  a  sort  of  lethargy 
which  we  did  not  like ;  although  we  kept  silence  to  the  oth- 
ers, we  were  neither  of  us  happy  about  it.  She  had  been 
restless  all  the  morning,  so  that  we  were  at  first  glad  to 
know  that  she  was  sleeping.  When,  however,  her  husband 
mentioned  casually  that  she  was  sleeping  so  soundly  that 
he  could  not  wake  her,  we  went  to  her  room  to  see  for  our- 
selves. She  was  breathing  naturally  and  looked  so  well  and 
peaceful  that  we  agreed  that  the  sleep  was  better  for  her 
than  anything  else.  Poor  girl,  she  has  so  much  to  forget 
that  it  is  no  wonder  that  sleep,  if  it  brings  oblivion  to  her, 
does  her  good. 

Later. — Our  opinion  was  justified,  for  when  after  a  re- 
freshing sleep  of  some  hours  she  woke  up,  she  seemed 
brighter  and  better  than  she  had  been  for  days.  At  sunset 
she  made  the  usual  hypnotic  report.  Wherever  he  may  be 
in  the  Black  Sea,  the  Count  is  hurrying  to  his  destination. 
To  his  doom.  I  trust  1 

26  October. — Another  day  and  no  tidings  of  the  Czarina 
Catherine.  She  ought  to  be  here  by  now.  That  she  is  still 
journeying  somewhere  is  apparent,  for  Mrs.  Marker's  hyp- 
notical report  at  sunrise  was  still  the  same.  It  is  possible 
that  the  vessel  may  be  lying  by,  at  times,  for  fog ;  some  of 
the  steamers  which  came  in  last  evening  reported  patches 
of  fog  both  to  north  and  south  of  the  port.  We  must  con- 
tinue our  watching,  as  the  ship  may  now  be  signalled  any 

27  October,  Noon. — Most  strange ;  no  news  yet  of  the 
ship  we  wait  for.  Mrs.  Harker  reported  last  night  and  this 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  373. 

morning  as  usual:  "lapping  waves  and  rushing  water," 
though  she  added  that  "the  waves  were  very  faint."  The 
telegrams  from  London  have  been  the  same :  "no  further 
report."  Van  Helsing  is  terribly  anxious,  and  told  me  just 
now  that  he  fears  the  Count  is  escaping  us.  He  added  sig- 
nificantly : — 

"I  did  not  like  that  lethargy  of  Madam  Mina's.  Souls 
and  memories  can  do  strange  things  during  trance."  I  was 
about  to  ask  him  more,  but  Harker  just  then  came  in,  and 
he  held  up  a  warning  hand.  We  must  try  to-night  at  sunset 
to  make  her  speak  more  fully  when  in  her  hypnotic  state. 

^8  October. — Telegram.  Rufiis  Smith,  London,  to  Lord 
Godahning,  care  H.  B.  M.  Vice  Consul,  Varna. 

''C carina  Catherine  reported  entering  Galatz  at  one 
o'clock  to-day." 

Dr.  Seward's  Diarj 

28  October. — When  the  telegram  came  announcing  the 
arrival  in  Galatz  I  do  not  think  it  was  such  a  shock  to  any 
of  us  as  might  have  been  expected.  True,  we  did  not  know 
whence,  or  how,  or  when,  the  bolt  would  come ;  but  I  think 
we  alt  expected  that  something  strange  would  happen.  The 
delay  of  arrival  at  Varna  made  us  individually  satisfied 
that  things  would  not  be  just  as  we  had  expected ;  we  only 
waited  to  learn  where  the  change  would  occur.  None  the 
less,  however,  was  it  a  surprise.  I  suppose  that  nature 
works  on  such  a  hopeful  basis  that  we  believe  against  our- 
selves that  things  will  be  as  they  ought  to  be,  not  as  we 
should  know  that  they  will  be.  Transcendentalism  is  a  bea- 
con to  the  angels,  even  if  it  be  a  will-o'-the-wisp  to  man.  It 
was  an  odd  experience  and  we  all  took  it  dififerently.  Van 
Helsing  raised  his  hand  over  his  head  for  a  moment,  as 
though  in  remonstrance  with  the  Almighty ;  but  he  said  not 
a  word,  and  in  a  few  seconds  stood  up  with  his  face  sternly 
set.  Lord  Godalming  grew  very  pale,  and  sat  breathing 
heavily.  I  was  myself  half  stunned  and  looked  in  wonder 
at  one  after  another.  Quincey  Morris  tightened  his  belt 

374  D  R  A  C  U  L  A 

with  that  quick  movement  which  I  knew  so  well ;  in  our  old 
wandering  days  it  meant  "action."  Mrs.  Harker  grew 
ghastly  white,  so  that  the  scar  on  her  forehead  seemed  to 
burn,  but  she  folded  her  hands  meekly  and  looked  up  in 
prayer.  Harker  smiled — actually  smiled — the  dark,  bitter 
smile  of  one  who  is  without  hope ;  but  at  the  same  time  his 
action  belied  his  words,  for  his  hands  instinctively  sought 
the  hilt  of  the  great  Kukri  knife  and  rested  there.  "When 
does  the  next  train  start  for  Galatz  ?"  said  Van  Helsing  to 
us  generally. 

"At  6:30  to-morrow  morning!"  We  all  started,  for  the 
answer  came  from  Mrs.  Harker. 

"How  on  earth  do  you  know  ?"  said  Art. 

"You  forget — or  perhaps  you  do  not  know,  though  Jon- 
athan does  and  so  does  Dr.  V^an  Helsing — that  I  am  the 
train  fiend.  At  home  in  Exeter  I  always  used  to  make  up 
the  time-tables,  so  as  to  be  helpful  to  my  husband.  I  found 
it  so  useful  sometimes,  that  I  always  make  a  study  of  the 
time-tables  now.  I  knew  that  if  anything  were  to  take  us 
to  Castle  Dracula  we  should  go  by  Galatz,  or  at  any  rate 
through  Bucharest,  so  I  learned  the  times  very  carefully. 
Unhappily  there  are  not  many  to  learn,  as  the  only  train 
to-morrow  leaves  as  I  say." 

"Wonderful  woman !"  murmured  the  Professor. 

"Can't  we  get  a  special?"  asked  Lord  Godalming.  Van 
Helsing  shook  his  head :  "I  fear  not.  This  land  is  very  dif- 
ferent from  yours  or  mine ;  even  if  we  did  have  a  special, 
it  would  probably  not  arrive  as  soon  as  our  regular  train. 
Moreover,  we  have  something  to  prepare.  We  must  think. 
Now  let  us  organize.  You,  friend  Arthur,  go  to  the  train 
and  get  the  tickets  and  arrange  that  all  be  ready  for  us  to 
go  in  the  morning.  Do  you,  friend  Jonathan,  go  to  the 
agent  of  the  ship  and  get  from  him  letters  to  the  agent  in 
Galatz,  with  authority  to  make  search  the  ship  just  as  it 
was  here.  Morris  Quincey,  you  see  the  Vice-Consul,  and 
get  his  aid  with  his  fellow  in  Galatz  and  all  he  can  do  to 
make  our  way  smooth,  so  that  no  times  be  lost  when  over 
the  Danube.  John  will  stay  with  IMadam  Mina  and  me,  and 
we  shall  consult.  For  so  if  time  be  long  you  may  be  de- 

DR.     SEWARD'S    DIARY  375 

layed :  and  it  will  not  matter  when  the  sun  set,  since  I  am 
here  with  Madam  to  make  report." 

"And  I,"  said  Mrs.  Harker  brightly,  and  more  like  her 
old  self  than  she  had  been  for  many  a  long  day,  "shall  try 
to  be  of  use  in  all  ways,  and  shall  think  and  write  for  you 
as  I  used  to  do.  Something  is  shifting  from  me  in  some 
strange  way,  and  I  feel  freer  than  I  have  been  of  late !" 
The  three  younger  men  looked  happier  at  the  moment  as 
they  seemed  to  realise  the  significance  of  her  words ;  but 
Van  Helsing  and  I,  turning  to  each  other,  met  each  a  grave 
and  troubled  glance.  We  said  nothing  at  the  time,  how- 

When  the  three  men  had  gone  out  to  their  tasks  Van 
Helsing  asked  Mrs.  Harker  to  look  up  the  copy  of  the 
diaries  and  find  him  the  part  of  Harker's  journal  at  the 
Castle.  She  went  away  to  get  it ;  when  the  door  was  shut 
upon  her  he  said  to  me  :' — 

"We  mean  the  same !  speak  out !" 

"There  is  some  change.  It  is  a  hope  that  makes  me  sick,. 
for  it  may  deceive  us." 

"Quite  so.  Do  you  know  why  I  asked  her  to  get  the 
manuscript  ?" 

"No  !"  said  I,  "unless  it  was  to  get  an  opportunity  of  see- 
ing me  alone." 

"You  are  in  part  right,  friend  John,  but  only  in  part.  I 
want  to  tell  you  something.  And  oh,  my  friend,  I  am  tak- 
ing a  great — a  terrible — risk;  but  I  believe  it  is  right.  In 
the  moment  when  Madam  Mina  said  those  words  that  ar- 
rest both  our  understanding,  an  inspiration  came  to  me.  In 
the  trance  of  three  days  ago  the  Count  sent  her  his  spirit 
to  read  her  mind ;  or  more  like  he  took  her  to  see  him  in 
his  earth-box  in  the  ship  with  water  rushing,  just  as  it  go 
free  at  rise  and  set  of  sun.  He  learn  then  that  we  are  here ; 
for  she  have  more  to  tell  in  her  open  life  with  eyes  to  see 
and  ears  to  hear  than  he,  shut,  as  he  is,  in  his  coffin-box. 
Now  he  make  his  most  effort  to  escape  us.  At  present  he 
want  her  not. 

"He  is  sure  with  his  so  great  knowledge  that  she  will 
come  at  his  call ;  but  he  cut  her  off — take  her,  as  he  can  do, 
out  of  his  own  power,  that  so  she  come  not  to  him.  Ah  i 


there  I  have  hope  that  our  man-brains  that  have  been  of 
man  so  long  and  that  have  not  lost  the  grace  of  God,  wid 
come  higher  than  his  child-brain  that  lie  in  his  tomb  for 
centuries,  that  grow  not  yet  to  our  stature,  and  that  do  only 
work  selfish  and  therefore  small.  Here  comes  Madam 
Mina ;  not  a  word  to  her  of  her  trance !  She  know  it  not ; 
and  it  would  overwhelm  her  and  make  despair  just 
when  we  want  all  her  hope,  all  her  courage ;  when  most  we 
want  all  her  great  brain  which  is  trained  like  man's  brain, 
b)ut  is  of  sweet  woman  and  have  a  special  power  wdiich  the 
Count  give  her,  and  which  he  may  not  take  away  altogether 
— though  he  think  not  so.  Hush !  let  me  speak,  and  you 
shall  learn.  Oh,  John,  my  friend,  we  are  in  awful  straits.  I 
fear,  as  I  never  feared  before.  We  can  only  trust  the 
good  God.  Silence !  here  she  comes !" 

I  thought  that  the  Professor  was  going  to  break  down 
and  have  hysterics,  just  as  he  had  when  Lucy  died,  but 
with  a  great  effort  he  controlled  himself  and  was  at  per- 
fect nervous  poise  when  Mrs.  Harker  tripped  into  the 
room,  bright  and  happy-looking  and,  in  the  doing  of  work, 
seemingly  forgetful  of  her  misery.  As  she  came  in,  she 
handed  a  number  of  sheets  of  typewriting  to  Van  Helsing. 
He  looked  over  them  gravely,  his  face  brightening  up  as 
he  read.  Then  holding  the  pages  between  his  finger  and 
thumb  he  said  : — 

"Friend  John,  to  you  with  so  much  of  experience  already 
— and  you,  too,  dear  Madam  Mina,  that  are  young — 
liere  is  a  lesson :  do  not  fear  ever  to  think.  A  half-thought 
has  been  buzzing  often  in  my  brain,  but  I  fear  to  let  him 
loose  his  wings.  Here  now,  with  more  knowledge,  I  go  back 
to  where  that  half -thought  come  from  and  I  find  that  he 
be  no  half -thought  at  all ;  that  be  a  whole  thought,  though 
so  young  that  he  is  not  yet  strong  to  use  his  little  wings. 
Nay,  like  the  'Ugly  Duck'  of  my  friend  Hans  Andersen, 
he  be  no  duck-thought  at  all,  but  a  big  swan-thought  that 
sail  nobly  on  big  wings,  when  the  time  come  for  him  to 
try  them.  See  I  read  here  what  Jonathan  have  written : — 

"  'That  other  of  his  race  who.  in  a  later  age,  again  and 
again,  brought  his  forces  over  The  Great  River  into  Tur- 
key Land ;  who,  when  he  was  beaten  back,  came  again,  and 

DR.     SEWARD'S     DIARY  377 

again,  and  again,  though  he  had  to  come  alone  from  the 
bloody  field  where  his  troops  were  being  slaughtered, 
since  he  knew  that  he  alone  could  ultimately  triumph.'  " 

"What  does  this  tell  us?  Not  much?  no!  The  Count's 
child-thought  see  nothing ;  therefore  he  speak  so  free.  Your 
man-thought  see  nothing ;  my  man-thought  see  nothing,  till 
just  now.  No!  But  there  comes  another  word  from  some 
one  who  speak  without  thought  because  she,  too,  know  not 
what  it  mean — what  it  mi